One Step
by Iluxia
Summary: ABANDONED. Seigaku won the Nationals. The seniors graduated. Ryoma left for his pro tennis career. The perfect team was no more. At least, that was 2 years ago. Enter Seigaku High School. This is where the new story begins and the old story continues.
1. Step One: The Second Return

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

Okay. So let's start again. This will be my _second_ attempt at my _first story_ in the Prince of Tennis genre. I sure do hope you guys will enjoy this. I don't know if there are other stories there with similar plots as this one, but I haven't come across any one, so I'll go ahead and try this plot whirling in my head… and it's been doing so for about a month or two now. Serious story here, I really thought this out. I never thought I'd really write it down and publish it on but here it is.

Right. So! Safety first.

**Standard Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis and all of the characters, including the original anime plot, belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I own nothing of it. I only own the original plot used in _this_ particular story, nothing more. This disclaimer stands firm for the whole of the story. Furthermore, if I use any material that needs to be disclaimed, there will be individual disclaimers for them in each chapter where they are used. I rightfully disclaim and declare that I own nothing but my own plot and my own original characters.

**Warning(s): **Occasional Language, References to Mature Themes, YAOI (we're positive on that)

**Summary:** Seigaku won the Nationals championship. Shortly afterwards, the seniors graduated. Echizen Ryoma left for the U.S., setting his eyes on further heights and greener pastures. The perfect tennis team was no more. At least, that was 2 years ago. Enter Seishun Gakuen Koto Gakkou (High School), one of the most proficient schools in Tokyo, sister school of Seishun Gakuen Chuu Gakkou (Middle School). Enter our old teammates… and re-enter our favorite brat prince.

**Story Timeline:** _2 years_ after the manga/anime setting. It's two years because they finished one year altogether, and then there's the two-year gap before Ryoma enters high school. Technically, the others would all be in high school too by then.

**Character Setting:** High school students. The seniors are seniors, the juniors are juniors, and the freshmen are freshmen. Just re-adjusting into high school.

**Chapter Details:** None in particular.

* * *

**Step One: The Second Return**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

"So hot…" a short, lithe form muttered, removing a white Fila sports cap from a black-haired head and brandishing it as a fan over a scrunched up face. Echizen Ryoma let go of a sharp sigh, plopping unceremoniously on one of those cold, hard, backache-inducing metal benches at the Narita International Airport(1).

Letting go of his heavy backpack and luggage, he rested his tennis bag gently on the chair next to him, making sure that the rackets inside were unharmed. For a tennis addict like him, his rackets were far more valuable than his clothes and his other things. His pet cage, though, he kept on his lap. His cat was probably the only thing that would equal the value of his rackets and the rest of his sports stuff. Karupin was sick right now, and Ryoma knew that it was because of the (stupid) turbulence in that (_stupid_) airplane during that (**stupid**) flight with his (STUPID) dad.

The turbulence was stupid because it made Karupin vomit and become sick. The airplane was _stupid_ because it was having stupid turbulences which made Karupin vomit and become sick. The flight was **stupid** because he had to take it on that _stupid_ airplane that was having stupid turbulences which made Karupin vomit and become sick. And his dad was STUPID because that's what he was. STUPID. Period.

"…**_geez_****_, where the HELL did that old man go_**" he hissed darkly in English, the reflexive use of the language emerging with his annoyance. His dad had separated with him earlier, spontaneously disappearing on the spot when they passed a magazine shop inside the airport's café and one-stop shopping area. He could bet his life that the old man was spending all the money buying a whole bundle of perverted magazines again.

His sharpened eyes scanned the area for a telltale rowdy black head in the crowd. Even in the middle of a million people, he could easily recognize his dad. Having spent more than half of his entire life with the older man, he knew Nanjiroh inside out, and vice versa. Nanjiroh knew his son better than anybody else, even better than Rinko did. Rinko was a businesswoman; she had no time for her motherly duties when Ryoma was a child. As such, Nanjiroh would often be left behind to take care of the young boy and teach him tennis from dusk 'til dawn. No matter how much both of them denied it, they had a connection, and that connection was tangible and unbreakable, a connection between father and son and between rivals.

As Nanjiroh slouched his way towards Ryoma with a wide grin etched on his face, Ryoma sighed in exasperation, eyeing the bundle of magazines tucked underneath Nanjiroh's arm.

"What are those?" Ryoma asked. Nanjiroh was about to answer when Ryoma cut him off. "Never mind I asked; I don't want to know."

"Hora, seishounen, a little recreation won't hurt you!" Nanjiroh prodded, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Your daddy can teach you more things than you can ever imagine."

"_No thanks,_" Ryoma hissed in disgust. "And _don't_ offer again," he grumbled, picking up his backpack and his tennis bag and carefully handling Karupin with his other hand as he stood up. "Now come _on_, we haven't got all day…"

"Ou!" Nanjiroh yelled, punching a fist up in the air animatedly, effectively catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Ryoma desperately wanted to hit his head.

"Oyaji, please stop embarrassing yourself," sighed Ryoma. "And pick your bags up. I am most certainly not carrying those for you."

Nanjiroh huffed and glowered childishly at his son, mumbling to himself as he picked his own tennis bag and luggage up with definite ease. "'Taku, he needs to learn how to relax more… he always has some kind of invisible stick up his ass…" He continued mumbling all the way to the airport exit, where they stood and waited for a taxi.

"Oi, I heard that you know," Ryoma grumbled. "I do NOT have a stick up my ass."

"Yeah, right, you should hear yourself speak, boy," snorted Nanjiroh.

"Remind me why I didn't bring mom along with us today," came the dead reply.

"Because you love your oyaji so much, you wanted to spend time with him!"

"…baka."

* * *

Ryoma deposited his bag haphazardly on the floor, sighing deeply and setting Karupin's pet cage on the bed. He placed his tennis racket down before starting to fiddle with the lock on the pet cage to set the whining cat free.

"Shush Karupin, we're home. I'm letting you out now," muttered the boy to his beloved pet cat. He unlocked the cage after his second attempt, and the cat gratefully leapt out of the cage and into his arms. Ryoma stood up and kicked the cage to one corner of the room, carrying his cat to the bed and slumping both of them down, stroking his cat's soft fur.

He stared up at the tennis posters on the ceiling, an extreme nostalgic bout of emotion threatening to overwhelm him as he closed his eyes. Being in the room that held so much memories of what were, in his opinion, the best years of his life, was overwhelming, especially after having been separated and detached from those memories for two whole tiring years.

These past two years, he had been doing nothing but tennis in the professional circuit, and now he understood why his father quit the pro circuit scene. There was _nothing_ more boring than the professional circuit after beating everyone out there. On top of that, there was dirty politics involved, and he discovered that some tennis players existed not because of their skills, but because of fan service. Of course, his dad was managing his career alongside Kevin's, but still, politics behind the scenes was hard to avoid.

Six months after he left Japan to pursue professional tennis, he won the U.S. Open fair and square, beating several well-known players along the way. A few months after that, Kevin won the Roland Garros, otherwise known as the French Open. _Another _few months after that, Kevin bagged another victory in the Australian Open, and then finally, just a little more than six months ago, _he_ made a world-record to be the youngest ever player to win the Wimbledon fair and square. Considering the fact that both he and Kevin were only wild card players in those tournaments, what they did was a _great_ feat.

Ryoma had decided that he'd take one year of high school in Japan after winning the Wimbledon, basically because he was bored past hell, and wanted more inspiration and challenges. Of course, Nanjiroh had no qualms about that whatsoever. Boredom in the top pro was one thing he understood completely. He knew that there were lots of good players out there who were not given the opportunity to rise to the top pro, so the only thing he could to do meet them was to go back down and be a normal, ordinary player again. It would be interesting, Kevin remarked. The blonde boy had promised that he would follow shortly after finishing up some things with his dad's case.

Ever since Ryoma came back to the U.S. with his family, Kevin had been living with them and out of his dad's custody. His dad was arrested for drug trafficking and illegal possession of fire arms. Kevin had also filed a proof-heavy case of child abuse against him, and Rinko had backed the blonde boy's case firmly, taking full custody of the minor until he was old enough to launch on his own. Apparently, Rinko still held a bit of a grudge at Kevin's dad, but Kevin was thankful for the help. Ever since then, Nanjiroh had been managing his and Kevin's pro tennis career, advertising the two of them as partners, both eligible in playing doubles and singles. (Now he no longer _sucked_ at doubles. _Hah, eat that, Momo-senpai_!)

There was also another reason for his return to Japan.

He reached over and dragged his bag with his foot to the edge of the bed, leaning over and pulling out his wallet from the backpack. He didn't like keeping his wallet in his back pocket; it always falls off during a game. Karupin scrambled off the pillow Ryoma had placed him on and crawled over Ryoma's chest, mewling and purring as Ryoma opened the wallet to see the photos in it.

On one side was a photo of him and Kevin. The blond was, as usual, hanging all over him, grinning eagerly like a cat from ear to ear as he draped his arm over Ryoma's shoulder and torso, the other hand making a V-sign at the camera. He had been drinking his Ponta back then, and he couldn't help but smile at the camera even he didn't want to; Kevin's cheerfulness was as contagious as a disease. He's been thinking about it ever since, but he couldn't fathom how Kevin had changed from that ever-scowling brat to a bouncing bright ball of joy. Most people say it's only around him that Kevin's ever like that, though. Now that would make sense, since there was an unspoken yet mutual understanding between them that connects them closely like best friends would be.

On the other side was an even older photo. It was a smaller version of his old team photo that was gift from Fuji before he left two years ago, that same photo they had taken on the mountaintop when they had waited for the sunrise.

These two pictures reminded him of his reasons for playing tennis: the beat the world and for his old teammates. These two photos were the two photos he always kept with him no matter what.

He was startled out of his reverie when his cell phone rang inside his bag, the tone a muffled sound. His cell phone model was one of those models where you could record a voice recording and set it as the ring tone. Kevin was being childishly stupid one day and recorded the two of them laughing and bickering over the ice cream his mom had bought and set it as the ring tone. He never really deleted it either; it reminded him of his best friend after all.

He pulled the cell phone from the bag by its strap, flipped it open and pressed the "loudspeaker" button.

"RYOMAAAA!" a giggling voice came from the other side of the line. He chuckled.

"Kevin, why am I not surprised?"

"Of course you're not, you know me! I'm your best bud!" More laughing.

"So, why'd you call?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"No, just asking."

Chuckling. "Ne, Ryoma, the case here is almost finished, I think I'll be able to follow you there in a couple of weeks," Kevin's happy voice came. They were really polar opposites no matter how alike they might seem: Kevin was bubbly, Ryoma was mellow. "Auntie's asking how the flight was."

"Tell her that she should castrate dad," Ryoma grumbled.

Kevin laughed. "Same old, same old, huh?"

"He _never_ changes, and that's why you should hurry up and get your ass back here so he'll have someone else to annoy!"

"You know I can throw him back, Ryoma," snorted Kevin.

"That's _exactly_ why I'm asking you to get here."

"So, Ryo… did you go to Seigaku Koto Gakkou (1) yet?"

"Nah, not yet, just arrived from the airport. And Karupin's sick."

"Awwww, poor kitty," Kevin cooed. Karupin mewled at the familiar voice. "Anyways, when do you plan on checking it out?"

"Nanako-san's preparing lunch for us. I think I can go right after we eat."

"I see. Well, good luck in finding your teammates. It's quite a big school, right?"

"All I have to do is go to the tennis club, Kevin."

"Oh, yeah! I _swear_ I knew that!" He could practically see a light bulb going off over Kevin's head a thousand miles away.

He snorted again. "Kevin, sometimes, you can really be stupid, you know that?"

"I take it from you, only from you, Ryo," chuckled Kevin.

"OI SEISHOUNEN, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, LUNCH IS READY!"

"I hear uncle's dulcet tones, man," Kevin remarked. "You'd better go if you don't want your ass skinned."

"Mada mada da ne."

Ryoma sighed, picking up his cell phone and heading downstairs while listening to Kevin prattling about random things.

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, a hauntingly familiar voice shouted from outside.

"Nanako-san, good afternoon, goodbye!"

Ryoma swore he saw a figure on a bicycle speed down the street. His head whipped towards Nanako.

"Nanako-san, was that…?"

Nanako nodded, chuckling. "Momoshiro-kun drops by at times to say hello. He says it's not good for a lady like me to live alone here. Sometimes, your other seniors drop by as well."

A slow nostalgic smile formed on Ryoma's face.

"Momo-senpai, honto ni baka da na…" (2)

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

**(1) ****Seishun**** Gakuen Koto Gakkou** – Seishun Gakuen High School.  
**(2) ****"Momo-senpai, honto ni baka da na…"** – "Momo-senpai, you're really an idiot, huh…"

Hunyaa!! There we have our first step. Saa! Review and tell me what you think, people!

**Kiasidira**** Ixari**  
_First Publication Version: 11.11.06  
First Revision Version: 07.25.07_


	2. Step Two: That Sounds Familiar

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

Thanks to all the readers and reviewers!

**Q:** **Is this yaoi?  
A:** Yes, this is. I said so in the last chapter.

**Q: Is this RyoKev or MomoRyo?  
A:** It can be either really. I'll let the story flow. I've only planned out the first ten chapters. We'll see.

**Q: What are the other pairings?  
A:** I'll delve into most of the pairings. It'll be more interesting with relationships weaved in and out around them, right?

Right, so those are the three general questions most of the reviewers asked.

**EDIT (07.25.07):** By the time I'm writing this, it's half a year after I started the story and wrote this chapter. The story is almost finished, and I'm doing a sort of belated "spring cleaning" with the chapters. I want to answer the questions above for the readers who are just starting to read, but well, it would ruin the latter chapters, so I'll leave them there as is. I do hope you enjoy reading this story; you'll find out later that I will gain a co-writer/beta-reader, which will be an enormous leap in terms of the plot. (She's as crazy as a fan gets, see, so she comes up with crackpot plots I struggle to fit in.)

On to the next chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Two: That Sounds Familiar**  
_(Revision Version)_

* * *

Eiji sighed, his lower lip protruding in a long-faced pout as another bout of "teni-syndrome", as he had previously dubbed it, threatened to overwhelm his senses during Math class. Teni-syndrome was the term he named the bout of depression that always came up with whenever he was attacked by the fact that he no longer was able to play competitive tennis in the clubs.

"Mou, of all classes, why Math…" he whinged under his breath, expelling a large, incredibly audible sigh. Beside him, Fuji smiled that usual smile glued to his feminine face. As time passed by and as they grew older, Fuji's features turned even more feminine as the excess baby fats were shed in the middle of adolescence. Most people now mistook him for a female even more often than before.

"Kikumaru, is there anything you want to share to the class?" Maki-sensei tacked waspishly, her sharp eyes glinting under those horn-rimmed half-moon glasses she so loved to wear.

"A-Ah, nothing, sensei, gomen nasai!" Kikumaru apologized quickly, pulling off a sheepish smile and scratching the back of his head.

Maki-sensei peered at him over the rim of her glasses, before pushing them higher up on her nose. She turned her attention back to the board as she continued writing the practice problems they had to solve. Kikumaru released a silent sigh of relief, suppressing an internal shiver at that freaky look the freaky teacher liked to wear.

She kind of reminded him of someone… close.

Eiji's head snapped to Fuji and then to Maki-sensei and to Fuji and then back again.

_Masaka__1) Can there be some kind of relationship between them?! Are they long-lost siblings?!_

Eiji kept on looking back and forth from Fuji and Maki-sensei, trying desperately to make a connection between the two incredibly similar persons. After a while, his neck got tired and he simply transfixed his gaze on his blank practice paper, different kinds of indescribably impossible scenarios between Fuji and Maki-sensei flitting inside his head.

He didn't snap out of his daydreaming until Fuji tapped his shoulder.

"Eiji, the bell rang five minutes ago," Fuji smiled, cocking his head slightly to the side. "Come on, we'll be late for our lunch date."

"A-Aa…" Eiji stuttered, startled. As he recovered and stood up, he asked Fuji, "Ne, Fuji, are you, by any chance, related to Maki-sensei, nya?"

"Maki-sensei?" Fuji repeated, raising a delicately feminine eyebrow as they walked down the corridors, attracting a lot of attention. Their mere presence was enough to silence the whole hall as they walked down towards the stairwell. The fame from winning the Nationals two years ago in middle school never really faded. The fact that they were good looking only aggravated their fan problems. "Why do you ask?"

"But see, you and Maki-sensei are a lot alike! When you look at me with your eyes open, it's kinda the same feeling with Maki-sensei's gaze, nya!"

Fuji chuckled. "Eiji, that's the _smartest_ analogy I've ever heard in my entire life," he replied, friendly sarcasm evident in his tone. "We're not related as far as I know. And we don't look alike."

"Nyaaa, now that you mention it, yeah, you guys don't look alike," frowned Eiji. "There's no way you could be related to an ugly hag like her, nya!"

"Eiji, keep your voice down," hushed Fuji.

"It's true!"

"I know, just keep your voice down, or else she might hear."

"She's not here."

"Just keep it down, ok?"

A huff of breath. "Haaaaaai."

As they descended the last flight of stairs and exited the building, a familiar voice called out to them. "Eiji! Fuji! Over here!"

Both of them looked up to find Oishi waving at them, seated with Tezuka, Kawamura and Inui under a sakura tree changing under the approaching autumn and the receding summer. Eiji, being the bright ball of sunshine he is, bounced his way towards his partner, confidant and unofficial lover (according to Fuji).

"Nya-hoiiiii, aibou(2)!" Eiji hollered for the whole world to hear as he threw himself over a laughing Oishi, who caught the brunt of the weight and buckled slightly, before placing a hand behind him for support. "I missed you, Oi-chan!!"

Fuji chuckled, taking a seat beside a reading Tezuka. "I'm sure you did, Eiji. You can let Oishi go now if you don't want to say goodbye to your beloved partner."

Eiji loosened his grip but remained wrapped around Oishi, clinging on tightly like an octopus. "I really missed you, Oishi! It was so boring without you!"

Oishi sweat dropped. "Eiji, you saw me just yesterday! You were with me through almost the whole of the summer vacation! We just played a match this morning too."

"Buuuuuuuuuut," Eiji said in a cute cross-expression between a whine and a pout. "It was so boring in class! Why didn't we sign up for the same class schedule this semester?!" he whined.

"Because you insisted that you wanted to be with Fuji in your homeroom like in middle school, so I let you. And also because I'm in III-A and you're in III-B," reasoned Oishi. "Eiji, it's only a few hours. You get to see me in the morning, during lunch and after class, so stop complaining, ok?"

Eiji's pout pulled out even longer but he conceded.

"Same as ever, eih?" chuckled Inui, jotting down some data in his green notebook before snapping it shut, putting it on his lap and pulling out his bento(3).

"Shouldn't we wait for the other two first?" Kawamura asked.

"They'll be here in approximately 49 seconds," Inui stated simply.

"Oh. Well, we should start setting this up, then," Kawamura smiled, placing a huge wooden box in front of them and opening it, revealing freshly made sushi inside. "A celebration for the start of a new year."

"Yatta!(4) You're the best, Taka-san!" Eiji exclaimed, startling several passersby as he punched a fist animatedly up in the air. "Alright, I'll be sure to beat Momo-chan this time around!"

"Fsssshhhh, chiisu(5)," Kaidoh greeted from behind Kawamura.

Just then, a speedy bike whizzed through the scattered pockets of high school students strolling out for lunch in the school's wide, grassy yards, stopping short just before their group.

Momoshiro panted, handing a plastic bag full of drinks to Kawamura. He was ordered to go and get the forgotten drinks from Kawamura's restaurant. "Taka-san, next time, please don't forget the drinks," he heaved, pushing his bicycle and resting it against the tree trunk and collapsing beside Eiji.

"Ah, Kaidoh," Inui greeted his kouhai(6), pulling a protruding slip of paper from his green notebook and handing it to the younger lad. "Here's your new training recipe for this semester. If need be, we can modify it later on."

Kaidoh ran his eyes down the paper, sitting beside Inui. "30 kilometers a day? Maybe we can add a little bit to that. That's too small."

"If you have time."

"Unyaaa, 30 kilometers A DAY?!!" Eiji shouted, this time startling several birds out of nearby trees. "No way! Kaidoh, that's suicidal!"

Oishi's brow creased. "Eiji, keep it down please, we don't want to get detention on the first day of class," Oishi sighed. "And Kaidoh, Inui, isn't that a bit too much for training? There's no need to push it that much."

"Yeah, we're not in the tennis club anyways, nya!" Eiji added without thinking.

Absolute silence followed his statement. As everything registered down in Eiji's mind, he stopped munching on his sushi and looked down. "Gomen," he abashedly apologized.

"There's no need for you to apologize, Eiji," Tezuka sighed, closing his book with a sudden snap. "What you said is true, anyway."

A thick and awkward silence hung over the group after Tezuka's remark regarding the sensitive topic.

Inui cleared his throat and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, the glass glinting against the sunlight. "I was watching the international news last night," he started, turning the conversation around. Everyone's heads turned to him. He knew that the mention of the international news would catch their attention, because the only thing that they often watched out for in the international news was the sports update on a certain person.

"He announced that he would be taking a break from the top pro scene for about a year or so," he voiced over the silence.

Another tense silence followed after that.

"A break…?" murmured Kaidoh.

Inui nodded.

"It's just a break, right?" Eiji worriedly followed.

"He's not quitting, is he? It's only been… what, a year and a half?" Kawamura asked no one in particular.

"Two," Inui prompted immediately after Kawamura, still jotting who-knows-what into his notebook.

"Still, a break this early is unexpected and unheard of," Oishi reasoned, the worrywart in him slowly surfacing.

"Don't worry," Tezuka said, silencing all of them. Even though he was no longer their official captain, he still held that same amount of respect from his former teammates and best friends. To think of it, he never really let go of his authoritative aura either, even though he was no longer a captain. There was also the long-standing fact that he was the strongest of their unofficial yet pledged team even now. "He's not going to quit, that I'm sure of."

"Really? How can you be so sure, bu—I mean, Tezuka-senpai?" Kaidoh said, catching himself in mid-phrase. They tried avoiding calling Tezuka "buchou" because it touched a sensitive topic, but it was hard to get rid of ingrained habits, especially given the fact that the respect they had didn't wane a tad.

"Tch, oi, mamushi, listen to what you're saying," snorted Momoshiro. "He's not going to quit, that gaki(7)! That's so not like him!"

Kaidoh hissed in annoyance but pulled himself together, restraining his temper. After playing doubles with Momoshiro on and off for two years now, they'd both learned how to hold their tempers to a certain extent, as well as how to consider the situations when they were supposed to behave and keep silent.

"Maa, ne," Eiji sighed. "Ochibi-chan doesn't know how to quit."

"That's because quitters can't win, Eiji," sighed Oishi. "Quitters can't win because they have nothing to win. They're not in the competition after all. Echizen, of all people, would know that."

Fuji chuckled. "That quote goes two ways, Oishi."

There was a comfortable silence as the sushi on the wooden tray started disappearing one by one.

"But why would ochibi-chan want a break?" voiced Eiji again.

"Maybe he's tired?" suggested Momoshiro reasonably, munching on a sushi silently.

"He never breaks even if he's tired. And he wouldn't take a _whole year_ just to rest, would he?" Oishi pointed out.

"Well, he'd get fat. I'd love to see him fat," Momoshiro chuckled through his sushi, before he choked slightly and groped for the nearest beverage to push down the ball of food lodged in his throat.

Kawamura passed him an already opened can of soda silently, while Eiji patted his back violently as if trying to not only dislodge the food but also dislodge his lungs. Momoshiro inwardly wondered when Eiji grew that strong. "Maybe he wants to do something else."

"I can't imagine anything else other than tennis getting along with that brat, though," grunted Kaidoh.

"Well, then maybe he has something to do," Fuji followed smilingly, stealing another wasabi sushi silently.

"Like what, like what?" prodded Eiji curiously.

"How the hell should _I_ know?" snorted Momoshiro, before Eiji hissed that he wasn't the one being questioned.

At the Echizen's Residence, Ryoma sneezed four times in a row while eating his lunch.

"Oi, seishounen, you haven't got a cold, have you?" Nanjiroh remarked. "Colds and tennis don't mix well."

"Someode's talking aboud me," he grumbled, rubbing his nose.

* * *

The next day, Eiji yawned, groggily rubbing the sleep off his eyes as he plodded down towards the cafeteria. Their Japanese History class was such a perfect opportunity for sleeping. He thanked whatever gods created the heavenly subject as he walked alongside a certain best friend of his. It was lunch time, and he and Fuji were heading off again to have lunch with their former teammates, but this time it was inside the cafeteria.

He yawned. "Fujiiii, what classes do we have after lunch? Can I just skip? I wanna sleep."

"Eiji, you know you can't skip. We're graduating already, just a little bit more. And besides, why are you so sleepy?"

"I was at Oishi's last night. We slept late."

Fuji's smile widened a fraction of a millimeter, and anybody with good enough perception would realize that the thoughts running around the tensai's head were censored. It was almost invisible, but to the trained eye, it was a distinct change of expression. "So? Why did you end up sleeping late, then?"

"We were talking," Eiji yawned yet again, oblivious to Fuji's smile, which kept on widening even more as he spoke. "We were playing games and then we grew bored."

"Ah, sou." (8)

They entered the cafeteria and made a beeline towards the usual window-side long table they always ate at. Practically the whole school knows that that particular table belongs to them, and no one ever sits there unless permitted or ordered to do so, either by them or by teachers.

"Mou, I still can't understand why we're so popular with these people," muttered Eiji under his breath. "We're no longer tennis players for the club, we're just ordinary high school students like them!"

"I still think it's still because of the Nationals, Eiji-senpai," Momoshiro managed through his turkey bagel.

"But would the impression last this long, nya?"

"It could, but I doubt it would," Inui answered.

"Then why the _hell_ are we so popular?!" Eiji whined. "It's tiring."

"Well, first off, there's Fuji's feminine charm and smile. Then there's Tezuka's aloofness that's very attractive to girls. Then there's _your_ cuteness, Oishi's responsible attitude, Taka-san's shy and approachable personality, my brains, Kaidoh's cool guy attitude, and Momoshiro's prankster image," Inui ticked off. "Fuji and Tezuka pulls the most attention, but if one would view it from someone else's perspective, we're a walking bishounen team."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me too much," muttered Momoshiro.

Kaidoh hissed. "If they want bishounen teams, then they should go watch the Nationals, or go to Hyotei, or try scouting Rikkaidai."

Fuji simply chuckled and Tezuka sighed.

"It's unfair, though," Eiji tacked. "Fuji and Tezuka can get rid of their fans so easily."

"It's just that we know how to maneuver, Eiji," Fuji amended.

"That's Fuji-senpai for ya!"

Just then, a group of young men passed by their table towards the vending corner of the cafeteria, glaring pointedly at them. Kaidoh hissed under his breath but held his temper in check. They did not want to get in trouble with these people again after all.

"Look, it's the wanna-be tennis team," snorted one the guys from the group as they passed by.

"If you want to be a team, then try joining our club, suckers!" another one laughed.

They pushed past the table and continued creating a commotion as they made their way to the vending machines in the corner. Momoshiro crushed the can of cola he was holding in his hand in annoyance, gritting his teeth painfully. Eiji hissed like an angry, haggled cat.

"Those guys are so damned cocky, I want to punch the lights out of their frickin' faces!" growled Momoshiro.

"Momo…" Oishi hurriedly amended, trying to calm the junior down.

"Just because they're in the tennis team and we're not doesn't mean that they're entirely better than us! The only reason we can't fully get in is because of that damned Akita!" Eiji hissed.

"Damn them, fssshhhh…"

"Eiji, Momoshiro, Kaidoh," Tezuka snapped. "Get yourselves together. There's no point in seeking a fight with them."

"We're not the ones doing that, Tezuka, they are!" Eiji whined.

"Still, it's better not to say anything, Eiji," Fuji sighed. "We managed to extract ourselves from trouble last time. We don't want to repeat the experience all over again, do we?"

There was a short pause, before three voices came all at the same time.

"No…" Eiji, Momoshiro, and Kaidoh all coalesced in reluctant understanding.

"There you go."

Their conversation, however, was distracted as another girl from another table talked to them over the cafeteria's moderate but still quite annoying din.

"Ano…" a junior in the table next to them tentatively said. "Senpai-tachi, did you hear the rumors about the tennis club?"

Inui turned towards the junior, his notebook ready and his pen poised over the paper. "Rumors? Enlighten us please."

The junior girl fidgeted under all the gazes locked and focused on her. "Eto… there are rumors that Yokubou-san of the tennis club was beaten by a freshman transferee yesterday afternoon…"

There was silence.

"A… freshman?" Oishi repeated. The junior girl and her friends nodded.

"A freshman beat Yokubou? _That_ Yokubou? A freshman?" Eiji repeated over and over again, as if having difficulty processing the information, when in fact he had already gotten it. His brain, though, was having difficulty in believing the familiarity of this rumor.

"Somehow, that sounds _really_ familiar," Kawamura muttered.

"Yeah, well… Yokubou-senpai was really embarrassed yesterday afternoon," the junior girl's friend remarked. This one was more confident in what she was saying, since she was from the tennis club. "I saw the whole match; it was a love match. All of the games are love games too. That freshman was _amazing_."

"I think they're pretending not to be affected by it," another girl said at the table behind them. "The team members, that is. I heard they demoted Yokubou-san from Singles 3 to Doubles 2."

"They were really mad at Yokubou-senpai," another boy from the table adjacent to them said. "I heard them yelling in the club locker rooms that afternoon."

Another anonymous girl was about to say something when a loud shout from the vending corner erupted, silencing the whole cafeteria.

"Oi, chibi, who do you think you are, telling us to get in line?!" one of the tennis club members, Teruo, aggressively snarled at a small, familiar form before him wearing a white Fila cap. The huge, bulky Teruo seemed like a giant against the small freshman before him. The other club members behind them aggressively approached the chibi.

"Don't you know that we tennis club members are the elites here?"

"You're only a freshman, don't get all cocky on us!"

"What were you doing, chibi, annoying Teruo… you're in deep shit!"

"Oh well, it'll serve as your welcome ticket to Seigaku."

"Yeah, teach him a lesson Teruo!"

Teruo stepped forward, smirking. "On your knees. Apologize, brat, or else you're done for it."

There was silence.

Momoshiro, Kaidoh and Eiji's jaws were hanging open in a mixture of shock and sudden recognition. They would _never_ forget that cap and that pose. Oishi kept on blinking, as if unwilling to believe. Kawamura had long forgotten the sashimi he was holding in his hand, halfway to his opened mouth. Inui was scribbling away madly.

The only ones seemingly unaffected were Fuji and Tezuka.

Just then, one girl approached the unmoving, unspeaking chibi before Teruo. "Ano sa, you'd just better do what they're telling you to do, or else you'll be in trouble!"

"Yeah, listen to her, chibi!"

The chibi opened his mouth to speak.

"**_I'm sorry, but I don't understand Japanese. Could you please speak in English?_**"

A smirk.

And then there was silence again.

* * *

**Tsuzuku**_  
(Revised Version)_

* * *

Woot. Cliffie. I love cliffies. (When I'm making them.)

**Notes:  
(1) ****Masaka** – No way/ It can't be!  
**(2) ****Aibou** – Partner  
**(3) ****Bento** – Japanese lunch box.  
**(4) ****Yatta**– Yeah/ Yahoo!  
**(5) ****Chiisu** – a form of greeting that indirectly means "yes" or "understood", but is also applied when greeting someone of higher status.  
**(6) ****Kouhai**– lit. "junior"; a title for someone of lower years or younger in age, used only within a group/club or within an office/workplace  
**(7) ****Gaki** – brat  
**(8) ****Ah, sou** / **Sou**** ka** – I see. / Ah, I see.

Weehee, me off to write next chapter then.

**Kiasidira**** Ixari**  
_First Publication Version: 11.13.06  
First Revision Version: 07.25.07_


	3. Step Three: We Meet Again

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

Hua! Bikkurishita! (Surprised!)

40 reviews, 2 chapters! Wow, that's a new record for me. The last one was 35 reviews in 2 chapters. Sugoi. (Okay, change that to 41 reviews. Another one just came in.)

ARIGATO, MINNA! I worked extra-hard to revise the plot and make it all better and more interesting since all of you were so enthusiastic about things.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Three: We Meet Again**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Ryoma rubbed the sleep off his eyes as he yawned his way towards the school cafeteria. Their class got out pretty early for lunch, and he already had finished the bento Nanako-san made for him. Unfortunately, he ran out of Ponta, and that was why he was bothering to walk down from the roof to the main first-floor cafeteria. The Ponta was worth it anyway.

"**_The tennis team here really sucks, though…_**" he mumbled as he walked past students, not sparing them a single glance. "**_Or maybe it's just that I'm too good?... Tch, it's probably both…_**"

He recalled the previous afternoon's events slowly as he walked.

_"Oyaji, I'm going out!" he yelled to the house, making sure that his worrywart of a father knew that he was out._

_"Go and get yourself laid while you're at it, seishounen!" his father yelled back from the patio where he was doing his 'recreation'._

_He rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut as Nanako-san's laughter floated through the silent house. He stalked out of the yard, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he grumbled about his dad's stupidity and perversion. He walked silently down the road, pulling out a map Nanako-san lent him earlier for direction reference._

_"Hmmm…" he mumbled, his eyes scanning the map carefully and assessing his location in relation to where he was heading. "It should take me at least 15 minutes to get there by foot… figures, it's right beside the its sister school," he muttered to himself, his eyes resting on the name that said 'Seishun Gakuen Chuu Gakkou' (Middle School). Then his eyes flitted to the name beside it, stating 'Seishun Gakuen Koto Gakkou' (High School)._

_He snorted. He never really paid attention to his surroundings before, and he didn't notice that the high school right beside their school two years ago was named Seishun Gakuen as well. His teammates never really told him about it, assuming he already knew._

_He folded the map and stuffed it back into his pocket, adjusting his cap as he walked down the familiar path he used to take with his Momo-senpai every morning two years ago. His cap hid a small, nostalgic smile threatening to overtake his face. He eyed the nearby street courts they used to play in when they had free time, and the riverside Kaidoh-senpai used to train in._

_He sighed._

_"Damn, since when did I turn so mushy?"_

_He passed his old school, eyeing the last few students starting to push into the building. The bell rang a few minutes ago, he knew. He could see a bit of the tennis courts they used to play in from his vantage point near the gate, but he didn't push it and go in. He had no more time to waste; he needed to see his senpai-tachi. Sighing and ignoring the sounds of tennis balls hitting the ground in their old courts, he walked on a few more meters, arriving at the entrance of the high school compound right beside its sister school._

_His eyes flitted towards the metal plate at the gate's side, bearing the name of the school. It was quite an old school too, and it was a proud one. It was still lunch time for the high school students; their lunch started 30 minutes later than the middle school students and ended 30 minutes later as well. He knew as much._

_He pulled his hat lower, hitched his tennis bag higher up his shoulder and started walking into the grounds. The students stared at him as if he was a foreigner. He sighed in exasperation. Everywhere he went, he was treated as a foreigner, and he didn't know the hell why._

_As he walked towards the backyard of the school, he heard the sound of tennis balls hitting the ground repeatedly, and so he turned on his heels and swerved towards the direction of the sounds, entirely missing his senpais sitting under a sakura tree in one faraway corner of the school's yard, eating lunch._

_He arrived at the tennis courts and slowly walked around the place, eyeing the players during their free hitting time. _

_"Hmmm…" he hummed contemplatively. Some of them had good forms, but most of them were crap. One particular guy was having trouble actually hitting the ball, and another guy kept on hitting dead balls. Since the balls had no spin whatsoever, the ball simply arced up slowly and arced down, falling towards the other player waiting impatiently for it to fall down within hitting range._

_He sweat dropped. _'Is this really the tennis team? I don't believe it.'

_"Mada mada da ne.__ This is pathetic," he grumbled loudly, catching the attention of several players nearby._

_"Oi, chibi, are you a freshman? If you're joining the club, you need to go to the club rooms, sign up and talk to our regulars!" one player said._

_Ryoma__ stared at the student under his cap for a few unnerving seconds (at least, to the player being stared at), before tugging the said accessory down and inclining his head slightly. "Domo."_

_He walked off towards the direction of the said club rooms, keeping his hands firmly tucked in his pockets, ignoring all the stares he was getting from his stand-out appearance and behavior. He was, after all, decked in signature sports clothes from head to toe, and his shoes and bag were all brand-new. He liked to treat himself to little caprices occasionally. (He was lucky that his dad supports him on this, because his mom was pointedly asking him what was "little" in his signature clothes which were at least a couple of hundred dollars apiece. He just reasoned that it was okay since he was using his own money to buy his things. He didn't win the __US__ Open and __Wimbledon__ for nothing, after all.)_

_He approached the club room's doors and knocked several times. A muffled voice came from the inside._

_"Come in."_

_He turned the knob and pushed the door open._

_He froze on his spot for a few seconds, registering the unfamiliar faces in Seigaku Tennis Club regular's uniform before him. The design was exactly the same as the middle school design, except for the undershirt, which had a horizontal blue stripe in the middle instead of just plain white._

_"…oi, chibi. What do you need?"_

_He regained his senses and frowned. "Gomen, I think I'm mistaken. I'm sorry for the disturbance."_

_"Oi, gaki, you ain't mistaken if you're searching for the tennis club," snorted one of them with a skinhead and several ear piercing, apparently taking note of his tennis bag. "This is the right place. Why, you searching for someone you know?"_

_"Takeda, shut up," snapped another guy who had braided hair and a short, stubby beard._

_"And who the hell are you to tell me what to do, Nori?" snapped back Takeda._

_"Oi, you two, stop it, will you?" sighed the guy who had initially said 'come in'. Ryoma could recognize the voice. "I'll tell __Akita__ if you don't."_

_"Oiya, Ruichi, isn't that a bit harsh?"_

_"No need to tell __Akita__ anything."_

_"I will if you don't stop."_

_"Right, hai, we'll stop."_

_Just then, Ryoma was startled when someone shoved him roughly aside and entered the room. It was a guy with long bleached hair pulled up into a pony tail, a conceited smirk on his face. Ryoma knew that smirk; he used to see it all the time on Atobe's face. But this guy had it worse than Atobe's conceitedness. At least Atobe was conscientious of other people around him._

'Did I just compliment Atobe?'_ he grumbled mentally, cursing._

_"Oi, if you want to pass by, learn how to excuse yourself," snapped Ryoma, annoyed._

_The guy who just entered stopped short, as well as everyone else inside the club room. The guy slowly turned around._

_"What the hell did you say, gaki? I'm in a bad mood today, so don't you piss me off!"_

_"Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" snorted Ryoma. "I've got nothing to do with you."_

_"You little bastard—"_

_"Yokubou, get yourself together, will you? There's no use in picking a fight with a boy," the guy called Ruichi said._

_But before Yokubou could reply, Ryoma beat him to it._

_"Alright, fine by me," Ryoma shrugged. "If you want a match, I'll give you one. Just _one_ though, I don't have all that much time."_

_There was silence._

_"Did you just _challenge_ me, gaki?" snorted Yokubou._

_"Take it however you like," hummed Ryoma, leaning against the door passively and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Saa, will we play or not?"_

_"You'll get it now, brat," Yokubou growled, picking up his racket. "I'll make you eat dirt," he ground out, standing up._

_Ryoma__ straightened up and smirked underneath his cap. "Are you sure it's not the other way around?"_

_"Gaki!"__ Yokubou yelled, storming to the courts with Ryoma following closely behind him. In contrast with Yokubou's wound up, angry composure, Ryoma was the epitome of relaxation._

_"Too bad though," sighed Ryoma. "I didn't get to see the people I was looking for. I wonder where they are… should I just call them?"_

_Yokubou__ ground his teeth, annoyed that the freshman wasn't a tad bit nervous or anxious about the match. _

_"Freshmen, clear out court A!" he barked menacingly. The freshmen scrambled to clear the said court, apparently out of terror and not respect for the senpai who had given the order._

_Ryoma__ sighed and set down his bag against the fence as they entered the court, opening the zipper and pulling out his favorite red Yonex racket, checking the gut strings and the tension before swinging it two or three times. He tucked it under his arm after approving the gut tension and credibility, pulling down the zipper of his red and white jacket (the very same one Kevin had and gave him once for his birthday) and draping it over his bag. _

_Since his muscles were still slightly primed from his 15-minute rapid walk, he didn't need to stretch and prepare. He simply twirled and twisted the racket in his right hand._

_"Ready?"_

_Yokubou__ frowned at his cocky behavior, and inwardly, Ryoma snickered. He loved annoying people with his attitude. Their reactions were fun to watch. He was just about to approach the net to decide whose service the first game was when Yokubou spoke up._

_"Your serve."_

_"You sure?"__ Ryoma said, raising a brow. "Most opponents who players who know me would think that's utter suicide, you know."_

_"Just hurry up and serve the ball!" snapped Yokubou. Ryoma smirked and walked back to the service position, aware of all the eyes watching him. He was used to it, though, after having competed in the __Wimbledon__. This audience was _nothing_ compared to that._

_Ryoma__ bounced the ball one, two times, before throwing it high up into the air with his left hand, leaning back, priming his legs by placing his weight on his knees, and using the momentum to pull a perfect jump. He twisted his body along with his arm with easy perfection from experience and practice, rendering a counter-spin on the tennis ball._

_Yokubou__ stared in wide-eyed shock as the ball whizzed past him in a yellow blur._

_"15-0," Ryoma counted lazily, pulling out one more ball from his pocket and bouncing it on the ground. He sighed inwardly. This was more boring than he had previously imagined._

_He repeated the Twist Serve for three more times, sealing the first game to his favor. The game went on in the same fashion. No matter what technique Yokubou used, Ryoma countered all of them with ease. He had faced more powerful techniques long ago._

_"M-Match point, t-to the foreigner," the make-shift freshman referee who started keeping track of the scores in the middle of the game.__ Suddenly, they had a referee and linesmen to watch over the one-sided game. Ryoma snorted inwardly; there was nothing to watch and to referee, really._

_He sighed, pulling out another ball as he watched Yokubou panting desperately to keep up with him, kneeling on the ground on his hands and knees. "Come _on_, I thought the tennis club here was supposed to be exceptional," he whined. "I want someone more challenging."_

_He tossed the ball upwards and ended the game._

He sighed lazily as he entered the cafeteria, pulling his cap lower as he walked towards the vending corner. He was dressed in ordinary uniform today, so there was no special attention directed to him, nor any discrimination or any of the sort. Nobody realized that he was the new transfer student from the US; his face was pure Japanese, after all. Everyone went on with their own lives, and he was happy because of that. Special attention was tiring after a while.

He walked straight up to the only vending machine that had Ponta, and was pulling out his money when someone barged in and went before him. In annoyance, he snapped viciously (which, incidentally, was one of his bad habits).

"Oi, get back in line, I was here first!"

The bulky figure immediately took offense and yelled, "Oi, chibi, who do you think you are, telling us to get in line?!"

"Don't you know we tennis club members are the elites here?"

That caught his attention. _Tennis club members, eih?__ Elites, my ass._

"You're only a freshman, don't get all cocky on us!"

"What were you doing, chibi, annoying Teruo… you're in deep shit!"

"Oh well, it'll serve as your welcome ticket to Seigaku."

"Yeah, teach him a lesson Teruo!"

The bulky guy called Teruo stepped forward and smirked. "On your knees. Apologize, brat, or else you're done for it."

He stood his ground silently, clutching his coin in his fist firmly as he stood there unmoving and unspeaking. Just then, one girl from his class (he forgot her name) approached him.

"Ano sa, you'd just better do what they're telling you to do, or else you'll be in trouble!"

_Trouble, huh?_

He smirked. _Well, the trouble's worth the fun._

"**_I'm sorry, but I don't understand Japanese. Could you please speak in English?_**"

There was silence in the whole cafeteria after his statement. Even the servers in the kitchen were silent.

_Are these crapshit tennis team members _that_ famous to make the entire cafeteria pay attention to them?_

And then there was the lone sound of one person's suppressed laughter breaking out from one of the tables. Familiar laughter. Ryoma's eyes widened and his head raised in recognition. He _knew_ that voice.

Fuji chuckled as his laughter receded. "**_Well, Ryoma, you'd have to pardon them since they don't understand English all that well_**," he said in smooth, perfect English.

_Same as ever, the genius Fuji-senpai, ehh?_

Ryoma smirked. "**_That's not exactly my fault, is it?_**"

Fuji was about to say something in return, but Eiji beat him to it.

"OCHIIIIBIIIIIIIII!!!!" Eiji practically shrieked in joy, making the others plug their ears in agony as he hurtled towards Ryoma and engulfed the smaller boy in that all too familiar rib-cracking bear hug. "I missed you SO MUCH!!!"

"Oi, GAKI!" yelled Momoshiro, trapping Ryoma's head, which was sticking out from Eiji's embrace, in a choking headlock. "You're being impulsive again, you didn't even tell us you were coming home!"

Ryoma gagged and choked under the onslaught of the power player and the acrobatic expert. "Mo—pai—can't—eathe!" he gasped out, struggling under the grasp.

"Oi, Momo! Eiji!" Oishi rushed, trying to pry the two away from the choking freshman.

"Oi, thickhead, you're choking him, fsshhhh," Kaidoh hissed. Momoshiro, who was too caught up with the events, ignored Kaidoh's thickhead comment and simply let the struggling young boy go to gasp for breath.

"But this is really surprising, don't you think?" Kawamura chuckled. Fuji nodded. "We were just talking about him yesterday and all…"

Inui adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and approached Ryoma, scanning him from head to toe. Ryoma shivered.

"Inui-senpai, please don't look at me like that," Ryoma said, drawing away with a shudder. "I feel like I'm under an X-Ray microscope."

Inui ignored him and jotted down hurriedly on his notebook. "Ryoma has grown a good three inches since I last saw him. The milk diet worked out wonderfully, though it took a bit of time," he muttered to himself, still scribbling away madly.

Ryoma sweat dropped. "You _really_ don't know how to give that annoying data tennis up, do you, senpai?"

The whole cafeteria was still watching them, silent murmurs passing around.

But the celebration was stopped when Teruo exploded behind them.

"Oi, gaki, I said apologize, didn't I?! Who gave you the permission to chit-chat with your fellow suckers?"

Ryoma glared, his teammates making way for him as he walked forward. "If there are any suckers in this room, that'd be you and your ugly friends, fatso," hissed Ryoma. "Not only do you suck in manners, you also suck in _tennis_."

Teruo hissed in annoyance and anger.

"The nerve of this gaki! Challenging our Teruo like that!"

"Teruo, take this to courts and teach him a lesson!"

Ryoma smirked. "Fine by me," he remarked, sticking his hands back in his pockets and leaning back a bit. "I'll make sure you get the same treatment I gave Yokubou-san yesterday afternoon."

Just then, the junior girl who was telling Momoshiro and the others the rumors about the previous afternoon exploded out of her seat. "Oh yeah, _that's_ why you're so familiar! You're the guy who beat Yokubou-senpai yesterday! I was watching you guys from the third floor window!"

Murmurs spread out like wildfire at this.

Inui adjusted his glasses yet again, closing his notebook. "No, I don't think that is the reason why you find him familiar, Itane-san," Inui contradicted.

"Eh?"

"Nya, what do you mean, Inui?" Eiji asked cluelessly.

"Itane-san's parents are avid tennis fans, am I correct?" Inui said, earning a nod from the girl. "Itane-san is also interested in professional tennis and plays in the girl's team, right?" Inui added, earning yet another nod.

Eiji interrupted. "Ah! I get it!"

"Get what?" Itane asked.

"Why you're familiar with our gaki here," Momoshiro chuckled, placing a heavy hand on top of an annoyed Ryoma's head. They were about to burst out his secret.

"Eh?" Itane was apparently confused.

Inui sighed. "This first year's name is Echizen Ryoma. Junior US Open Championship Title Holder for four consecutive seasons, the youngest ever tennis player to be granted a Gold Medal from Temple, US Open Doubles Championship Title Holder alongside Kevin Smith, the youngest ever player to join Wimbledon, US Open 2006 Champion and Wimbledon Open 2007 Champion."

There was absolute silence again.

Ryoma sighed loudly. "And here I was trying not to divest that information to anyone. You didn't have to do a complete biography on me, Inui-senpai."

Inui just smiled back sheepishly.

"Sugoi…" whispered Itane, her eyes animatedly turning into hearts.

"Sutekiiii…" squealed some of the girls silently.

"He's only a freshman and he's won that much?"

"No way!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"For real…"

Ryoma sighed in exasperation and slapped his forehead with his palm. "Now you've done it. You've spawned _fans._ I _hate_ fans."

"Oooo, come on, you know you like the attention," chided Momo, nudging him with an elbow. "Back when you fought against Atobe-san in the Nationals, you weren't so shy and you stole all the attention from Atobe-san to yourself!"

"That was a different case, I just wanted to do it for the heck of seeing Atobe's devastated face," scowled Ryoma.

"Ryoma," came Tezuka's voice.

The whole of the team fell silent.

"…hai, buchou?" Ryoma voiced silently, looking up at his still taller captain. He took in the changes with the older player's face—they weren't much, but they were noticeable, at least to him, who's observed the captain for the most part of his stay in Seigaku long ago.

Tezuka sighed. "Don't call me that. I'm no longer your captain."

Ryoma stubbornly stood his ground and pouted defiantly. "You'll always be my buchou."

Fuji chuckled and reached over, slinging an arm around Ryoma's shoulders. "How sweet. You're a loyal protégé, aren't you?"

Ryoma simply sniffed stubbornly, the determined and immovable glint blazing in the golden-flecked eyes. Tezuka sighed and relented, knowing by instinct that the younger player would not relent after accommodating that glint in his eyes.

"In any case, why did you announce that you were taking a break from the international top pro tennis scene?"

Ryoma scratched his cheek and grinned sheepishly.

"I'm bored."

…

Momoshiro and Eiji sweat dropped.

"You're bored," Tezuka repeated.

Ryoma nodded vigorously, launching into a rant. "There's nothing more boring than the top pro, you know! All that politics, all the cheating, all the fabricated lies… you never get to meet with the real good players too because for some reason they're always occupied! I hate that! So with all that, things get boring! Well, except maybe for Atobe's chatter, but that's an entirely different matter."

"Atobe? Is he calling you again?" Fuji chuckled.

Ryoma pouted. "Fuji-senpai, can you threaten him or something? He keeps on bothering me. I can _swear_ that guy has a thing for me."

"Ahhh, we can't have that, can we, nya?" Eiji mock frowned, before turning to the said tensai. "Fuji, threaten Atobe!"

"I didn't know Atobe-san swung that way, fssshhhh…"

Tezuka sighed in aggravation and placed his forehead against his fingers in exasperation. "In any case, let's not talk here," he sighed.

"Yosh! To the usual we go!" Eiji cheered, trooping off and pulling along a distressed Ryoma.

"Kikumaru-senpai, that hurts! My arm, don't pull my arm too much!"

And just like that, they left the students in the cafeteria to ponder questions on their own.

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Whew! Long one! 3,489 words… now, that's something. Well, I need to go and sleep now, its 1.37 AM Central Time, and I need to get a bit of rest for tomorrow… I have school too, and I'm lucky I have time enough to write these chapters… or should I say, the readers are lucky I lend time to write the chapters.

So please, lend your time reviewing too!

**Kiasidira**** Ixari**  
_First Publication Version: 11.15.06  
First Revision Version: 07.25.07_


	4. Step Four: What's Passed

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

BIKKURI!!!!

From 40 reviews… to 73 reviews… in just ONE chapter.

Wow.

Kia-chan is quite shocked.

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Four: What's Passed**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Ryoma grumbled as he sank down to the grassy ground under the sakura tree in the school yard, rotating his shoulder slowly and painfully and wincing as the ligaments popped back into relaxation. He swore he would kill his senpai if his shoulder was seriously damaged.

"Kikumaru-senpai, if my arm doesn't work properly when I play tennis, I'll blame it on you," scowled Ryoma, massaging his shoulder slowly to relieve the tension.

"Come on, ochibi-chan, don't be like that!" giggled Eiji, apparently on sugar high mode. He bounced around the place in glee while the others settled under their favorite sakura tree.

Ryoma turned to Oishi. "Ne, Oishi-senpai, did you feed him sugar this morning? He's sugar high."

Oishi simply sweat dropped and sheepishly chuckled, scratching the back of his head, making Ryoma sigh.

"You know Eiji… he's always like that, sugar or not," Fuji hummed, leaning over Tezuka's shoulder to see the new book he was reading. "Ne, Kunimitsu, what's this book called?"

"One Man's Bible," Tezuka answered shortly, earning a hum from Fuji. The tensai then proceeded to absently peer under the book to see the cover that was what had initially intrigued him.

"But I was really surprised, you know…" Momoshiro grinned, slinging a heavy arm around Ryoma and earning an 'oof' from the smaller player. "…just yesterday, we were talking about your so-called 'break' from the top pro."

"What's the big deal?" Ryoma dismissed, rolling his shoulders in a carefree shrug. "It's just a break. They won't miss me. In fact, they'll be _happy_ to see my back, since they'll now have a chance to reclaim the 'stolen glory', as they call it."

"I have to say, that last performance against Federer was brilliant, Echizen," Inui remarked, hitching his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose as he opened his beloved green notebook. Apparently, he was eager to get first-hand evaluation from Ryoma. "The way you countered his precise groundstroke techniques shows how much you've improved."

"Mmm," Ryoma hummed in thoughtfulness. "Well… his shots were more like… uhh, what's his name again? Fuji-senpai's younger brother…?"

"Yuuta," Fuji supplied absently, now observing the cover that Tezuka had relinquished a few moments prior with sharp, photography-experienced blue eyes.

"Aa, Yuuta-kun," Ryoma nodded. "Federer's shots were all much like Rising Shots. He keeps on hitting balls while it's still rising from the bounce, much like Yuuta does. Because of that, the opponent's reaction time will be lesser and he'll have leeway to hit a cross-court heavy top spin ball to score the point. But I have my Drive B to counter that."

Inui nodded. "What about his serve? You can't really see his serve because he somehow turns his back on his opponent… and he tosses the ball consistently in the same place at the same pace in the same manner no matter where he plans to hit it."

"He twists," Ryoma stated simply.

"Twists?" repeated Kaidoh.

"He twists his body when he serves, so even if he tosses the ball in the same manner, you can see by the twist of his body where the ball will be landing. It's kind of hard to notice on video, but when you're actually playing him, you can see the twisting by watching his feet angles, torso and swing. And besides, even if they say that his serve is goes up to 200 to 209 kph, it's nothing compared to Inui-senpai's Waterfall and uhh… that Hyotei player's Scud Serve. The ball's spins are weaker than my Cool Drive. The strength and impact is also nothing compared to Atobe-san's Hametsu e no Rondo, or to Momo-senpai's Special Dunk Smash in full power. My Cross Split Serve is far stronger too."

"Cross Split Serve?" repeated everyone except Fuji and Tezuka. The tensai merely smiled as he continued to peer over the cover of the book, while Tezuka calmly flipped a page.

"Never mind," muttered Ryoma, leaning back against the tree.

"Ah! Ochibi is mean! You have a new technique and you won't tell us about it!" Eiji exclaimed.

"You'll get to see it sometime," Ryoma sighed, before he pouted. "I want Ponta."

"Don't change the topic, gaki!" Momoshiro snapped, locking Ryoma's head in his arms again. "What's this Cross Split Serve you're talking about, eih?"

"Sou, Echizen-kun," Inui smiled, making involuntary shivers crawl down Ryoma's spine. "Enlighten us."

"I said you'll get to see it when I play again!" Ryoma choked out, struggling out of his senpai's grasp and flailing his arms about.

"The fact that Inui doesn't know about it means that you haven't shown it on any of your matches in the top pro yet, right?" Fuji calmly deduced as he returned the book cover to Tezuka, who accepted it with a silent hum. "It must be a new one. Oh, yeah! Echizen-kun, congratulations on being named as ESPY's Best Male Tennis Player of the Year."

"Our little gaki's really going international, huh?" Momoshiro whistled, impressed. "Being recognized by ESPY and all…"

"Sooner or later, he'll be doing sports magazine cover shots too," giggled Fuji, hiding his mouth behind his hand like a girl. Ryoma could see in bright neon signs over the tensai's head thoughts that ought to be censored to anyone below fifteen years of age. "That would be really interesting to watch."

Ryoma frowned at this, recalling a particularly unwelcome memory of an interview with him and Kevin for Sports Illustrated a few months ago. He grumbled at that memory. The journalist was so damned nosy about his and Kevin's personal lives; it annoyed him to no end. Kevin handled it perfectly fine, but he was a bit more irritable than Kevin when it comes to people, so it went as expected: badly.

"I read that interview, you know, the one from Sports Illustrated," Kawamura said. "The journalist was saying that you were so silent and grumpy all the time."

"I was annoyed," Ryoma explained simply, sniffing in disgust as he remembered the reporter's simpering countenance. "Kevin was there, so he handled it."

"'Taku, you haven't changed a bit, you stingy brat," huffed Momoshiro. "Still pissing off people left and right with your I'm-a-downright-brat attitude."

"Well, he wouldn't be himself without the damned brattiness," Kaidoh remarked. He grumbled as Eiji jostled him. "Kikumaru-senpai, please…"

"But Kaidoh!" whined Eiji, who was practically fizzling on his seat. "I'm so happy today! It's such a wonderful day! Nee-san bought me a new toothpaste, Oishi bought me ice cream—"

"So you _did_ buy him sweets," muttered Ryoma under his breath, shooting an accusatory glance at Oishi, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and murmured an apology that was drowned under Eiji's rant.

"—ochibi-chan is back, and Yokubou got beaten flat on his face!" Eiji cackled madly at the last bit.

"Oi, Eiji, they might hear you! Not too loud!" Oishi hushed, fussing over the still cackling redhead.

"What's wrong if they hear him? It's true after all," Ryoma tactlessly said, closing his eyes.

There was suddenly an uncomfortable silence around him.

He reopened his eyes after a while. "Did I say something wrong?" he frowned, his forehead creasing.

Fuji chuckled breathily beside him, reaching over and smoothing out his forehead like an older brother would do to a younger brother. Ryoma really was still a young boy, younger than they were. Even though Ryoma appeared strong and unmovable in front of others, Fuji knew that the said freshman still needed their attention and protection. He was a special boy after all.

"It's just something of the past, _ochibi-chan_," Fuji sighed, slinging a brotherly arm around Ryoma and pulling him slightly close.

Ryoma frowned even more at this. Instead of pushing him away, Fuji's mysterious statement only piqued Ryoma's growing curiosity. He knew that curiosity can kill the cat, but he was willing to take that risk.

"Speaking of the past, why aren't you guys in the tennis club?" Ryoma asked, unbothered by the straightforward and arrogant air of his question. He knew his teammates were used to it.

There was silence for a while, filled with Eiji's fidgeting, Momoshiro's and Kawamura's averted glances, Kaidoh's deep sighs and Oishi's frowns. Even Fuji's smile dropped a notch. Inui simply adjusted his glasses higher up his nose. Just then, Tezuka closed his book with a snap, slightly startling the others.

"Still as straightforward as ever, I see," muttered Tezuka, sighing. Then he turned to Fuji. "There's no harm in telling him, I suppose."

"I have the _right_ to know," added Ryoma firmly. He was going to see this to the end within this day. He wanted and needed those explanations to make everything clear. He dropped his top pro career for a year for this; he was _nowhere_ near hell letting it go.

Momoshiro chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Still haven't changed, nope, not changed a bit…"

"Maa ne," Fuji sighed. "It's a long story. Can we fit it in the remaining lunch time?"

"We have 20 minutes more, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma insisted stubbornly, eyes flaring. "I won't interrupt so you can explain smoothly."

Fuji chuckled at this. Their brat hadn't changed a tad bit.

"Saa ne… I won't say unnecessary things, then," Fuji hummed, before beginning. "After we graduated from Seigaku Middle School, after you left for your career in America, it was a mutual decision to go to Seigaku High School. That way, we could keep the tennis club going. We entered without any problems at all. The first year was fine. The captain was good, the third years were strong, and the team made it halfway to the Nationals."

Under his breath, Ryoma breathed, "Only halfway?"

Fuji chuckled at this. "Yes, only halfway. We were not that strong, after all. There were stronger teams out there. Our doubles were… well, shall we say, it was only Oishi and Eiji making the effort. The others were not that good at all, and it was impossible to create a good vibe for the whole team."

"I can see that," snorted Ryoma, recalling the tennis team members he had watched the previous day.

"But all in all," Fuji continued, ignoring Eiji's audible whispers and giggles and Ryoma's comments. "It was a good year. Average in terms of tennis level, but it was good. The team was good. Even Kawamura was there, even if he said that he would already stop tennis. His dad allowed him to continue until the end of high school, so it was good news."

"Heeeh…" Ryoma drew out.

"Demo…" Kawamura started. "The real challenge was not in the first year."

"Sou dayo ne," Eiji sighed. "I had thought that it would be easier in the second year, since Momoshiro and Kaidoh would be there too, but…" he sighed, his shoulders sagging miserably.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Ryoma asked innocently, a blank look of incomprehension painted all over his face.

"Maa, long story short, they _shunned_ us out of the team," Fuji sighed heavily, the light breeze ruffling his golden brown hair.

"Shunned?"

"Sou," nodded Fuji. "The captain that graduated was good to us, but the next captain chosen had intense favoritism towards the other players who had the money and the background, as well as the support of the school."

"And these people are?"

"Well, Yokubou-san is one," Oishi cited. "There's also Nori-san and Takeda-san."

"You forgot Ruichi-san, senpai," Kaidoh inserted.

"Maa, Ruichi-san isn't too bad," Momoshiro remarked. "He's a bit better than the others. I think he just can't avoid being carried by the flow of his friends. Being with such bad influence does it to a person after all."

"They're all from rich families with ties to the school," Fuji explained. "They joined the tennis club just for fun and were never really serious about things. They were late for training, never fought seriously, harassed freshmen, and were often included in violent situations inside and outside the school."

"And then there's Akita-san," Inui added. The mere mention of the name earned apprehensive glances from all of them. "Akita-san comes from a rich family as well, and he was made captain during our second year in the club. He's in the same class as Tezuka and me, and he's quite well-disciplined, but he still has a devious, dirty side to him. He holds intense favoritism over the club members and is often short-tempered. But he's a good player, probably the best player in the club. I'd say up to par with our level."

"What I can't stand about him is his attitude towards bu—Tezuka-senpai," Momoshiro half-yelled, catching and correcting himself in mid-phrase.

At the mention of an 'attitude' towards Tezuka, Ryoma's eyes flashed in suppressed anger. No one insulted his captain. "Please be more specific, Momo-senpai."

Almost all of them inwardly quirked eyebrows at the attitude. Fuji chuckled. _Maa__, our boy wonder just can't stand someone looking down on his model, can he?_

"Well, he's always looking down on Tezuka-senpai," Momoshiro explained. "It's _annoying_. He thinks he's so great because he became captain over the captain of the team who won the Nationals Championships for the sister school! It's damned _annoying_, the way he thinks he's above us. The rest of them too."

"But wait," Ryoma countered. "Don't tell me you quit just because of _that_?!"

"We so did NOT quit!" Eiji defended almost instantly, yelling his statement. "We were _shunned_, I tell you, _shunned!_"

"I still don't get it."

"The story isn't finished yet, Ryoma," Tezuka explained. "These people weren't really interested in tennis before we came, but apparently, they were put off when the previous captain favored our performance. That's when they started being serious and trained to try and defeat us, the Nationals Champions."

"That's stupid," Ryoma stated plain as day, without a change in expression.

"I know," Tezuka sighed. "But we can't avoid people who think like that. They tried challenging us to numerous matches, and of course, being good club members, we accepted each one. With each match, they improved and were harder and harder to beat, but in the end, our techniques, knowledge and experience pulled us through. This didn't sit well with them."

"That's when they started going to extremes," Fuji continued. "At first, what they did were mild, ignorable things like _accidental_ spills of juice on our uniforms, _accidental_ balls directed towards us, and other stuff like that. We were patient though, and we pushed through. This annoyed them, apparently."

"Aa," Oishi nodded. "The first serious incident was when they sabotaged Inui's experiment inside the science lab, screwing up his whole presentation for the Science Convention Week. It was a disaster, that one."

"But I was able to recover the data I gathered, and they didn't get to my notebooks, since I always keep them with me, so it was fine by me," Inui explained. "We let that one slide."

"And then they stole Eiji-senpai's mobile phone," Kaidoh followed. "Fsssh… if you'd normally think about it, you can always buy another one, but Eiji-senpai was wailing that day because that phone was a gift from Oishi-senpai for their fifth anniversary as a doubles pair. It was brand new too. We thought that if we found it, it would be over, and they'd just have to apologize and it'd be over. But it wasn't."

"They made prank calls and threatening calls from Eiji-senpai's phone," Momoshiro explained. "They called different persons and gave out different threats. Of course, these persons alerted the police and the phone number was traced to Eiji-senpai."

By this time, Eiji was already sniffling and clinging to Oishi, pulling out the said red mobile phone from his pocket and looking at the phone straps tearfully. "If I had lost this phone, I'd kill myself."

"Oi, Eiji, don't say things like that, it's only a phone!" Oishi worriedly amended, earning a glare from the redhead.

"Don't say it's just a phone! It's a gift from my aibou!" he pouted.

"Hai, hai, gomen, just be quiet, ok?"

Eiji pouted cutely and clung to Oishi, keeping his mouth blissfully shut.

"Luckily, just when the policemen were going to arrest Eiji-senpai, Mukahi-san, Oshitari-san and Atobe-san from Hyotei came to his house, wondering about the prank call they had received. They recognized the voice was not Eiji-senpai's, as well as the demeanor," Momoshiro chuckled. "Hyotei to the rescue! Lucky, lucky!"

"That issue was easily resolved when Eiji just asked for his phone back and nothing more," Fuji sighed. "I still think you were too lax on them, Eiji. It would have been fun to see them suffer under the punishment the Head Teacher was willing to dish out."

"Fujiko, you're way too much of a sadist."

"Thank you."

"It doesn't end there," Kawamura said. "The last one was the one that crossed the line."

"Eh?"

"Ne, Ryoma, you remember that Tezuka used to have an injury on his left elbow, right?" Fuji slowly explained, his brows furrowing.

Ryoma frowned. "Of _course_ I remember. How could I forget something like that?"

"Saa, that day was horrible," Fuji sighed, shaking his head. Tezuka sighed as well.

"Eh? What happened?"

"I really can't remember things clearly that day," Eiji nervously chuckled. "I was too preoccupied with my anger, I guess."

"We were, too," Momoshiro said.

"Will somebody please just _tell me_ what _happened?_" Ryoma snapped.

"Hai, no need to be stingy!" Momoshiro reasoned, cuffing Ryoma's head with his fist lightly, earning a glare from the youngster.

"Saa, that day, Nori, Takeda and Yokubou were hitting free shots across the courts, just for fun," Fuji explained. "As expected with Tezuka, he came earlier than any of us. I came with him, but I was left behind in the locker rooms for a bit, so I don't really know what had happened initially. All I know is that the next thing I saw was Tezuka clutching at his left elbow while on his knees, three rolling balls on the ground nearby, and laughter from the opposite side of the court."

"Actually, they were just jeering their usual while I started warming up," Tezuka sighed. "And then when I didn't pay any attention to them, they shot those three balls, aiming it at my elbow. I didn't see because my back was facing them, but my reaction was fast enough to prevent any of the balls from hitting a critical point where it would cause permanent damage."

"Just then, Momoshiro and Kaidoh charged into the court, all claws and fangs at the three other guys," Kawamura apprehensively explained. "How should I say this… that afternoon was intense. It was so hard to calm these two down," he chuckled, motioning to Kaidoh and Momoshiro.

The two juniors were about to say something when Ryoma cut them off.

"Of COURSE it was!" he exclaimed, anger flaring. "Damn, this just makes me want to pound their ugly faces in even more! Dammit…"

Fuji chuckled behind his hand. "Ryoma-chan's acting like an overprotective boyfriend!" he giggled, earning a glare.

"Oi, what the _hell_ are you giggling about?" Ryoma glared.

"_Ryoma_."

"Hai, gomen, buchou," Ryoma immediately replied, backing down. Whenever he heard Tezuka's voice or command, absolute obedience and respect always tends to come out instinctively. For some reason, it was so. Ryoma never really bothered to beat down the habit either.

"Oooo, such a good boy when it comes to buchou, ne?" Fuji giggled. Ryoma glared yet again, but refrained himself from saying anything.

"After that, it was just chaos. Eiji, Oishi and Kawamura were trying to hold the kouhai down, I was trying to check if Tezuka was injured in any serious way, and Fuji was simply seething in barely suppressed anger, keeping at a distance… so, basically, after that, it was absolute disaster for us," sighed Inui. "That afternoon destroyed the reputation of those rich guys, as well as the tennis club. That's why no one ever takes it seriously nowadays."

"We were suspended for that. One day suspension. The others got one week suspension. It should have been expulsion from the compounded and repetitive offenses they've done already, but they had the backing and the support of half of the board, so we were voted out of the tennis club because they wanted it. They also threatened us that Taka-san's business would die down if we did anything like transferring schools, or trying to counter the tennis club. They also said they'd bribe whatever school we'll go to so they'll not accept us. We had to suffer, they said."

"…they what?"

"Sou. They threatened to kill Taka-san's family's business if we did anything, so we just conceded and pulled ourselves to a halt," Fuji said. "There's no way we'd let Taka-san's business dwindle."

"But even so, it's still dwindling," Kawamura laughed.

There was silence for a while.

Then Ryoma sighed and pulled his wallet out, fiddling in it for a while, before raising his head again. "Yosh. Taka-san, we're going to your place later. Can you prepare an eat-all-you-can party setting for all of us? Let's invite Horio and the others, they're here too. I'll also invite my dad… not. Scratch that thought. Just invite as much people as you want."

"Heh?"

"Nani?"

"Matte, matte, oi, Ryoma, who's gonna pay for all this?" Momoshiro gushed.

Ryoma smirked, pulling out several wads of cash from his wallet. "My treat. This is enough for all that, right?"

"Fucking rich!"

"Momoshiro, language," Tezuka scolded, reminding Ryoma of a father figure of sorts.

"I didn't win the Wimbledon and the US Open for nothing, Momo-senpai," sighed Ryoma. "What did you think, I'd play for no prize? No way in hell. I refuse. I need new clothes, new gear, daily supply of Ponta and cat food to sustain me and Karupin after all. Respectively, of course."

* * *

**Tsuzuku**_  
(Revised Version)_

* * *

Mm, this chapter's a bit boring… explaining everything that happened. With Taka-san's business on the line, they just can't make moves out of impulse, ne? And they can't transfer schools too.

Wicked. The birth of the new idea in the next chapter!

**Kiasidira**** Ixari**  
_First Publication Version: 11.19.06  
First Revision Version: 07.25.07_


	5. Step Five: Old Friends and Inspirations

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

Hmmm, the review rates decreased drastically in this chapter. I _knew_ the previous chapter was boring. Oh well, more action in here. **Review**, people, you keep me inspired!

Gaaaaah, there are SO MANY PEOPLE asking for TezuRyo, and there are SO MANY PEOPLE asking for MomoRyo too… and damn, I'm confused if I should make this TezuRyo, MomoRyo, FujiRyo… or TezuRyoFuji. Aieee, fucking CONFUSED!

We'll see which pair fits well into the story soon, so hang onto your horses and hold your thoughts, there's still a chance that the pair you want will happen, ne?

Right, let's get this going! The last chapter was late on the schedule, so we need to get a move on this! This chapter is LONG.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Five: Old Friends and Inspirations**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Ryoma chuckled, watching Momoshiro and Kaidoh argue about some mundane, trivial thing yet again as they pushed towards the main building. The bell was bound to ring in about five more minutes, signaling the end of lunch break.

He sighed, relaxing the tense muscles in his back as he shifted Fuji's arm around his shoulders. It was a comforting feeling to be back within his old team, his best friends (and Kevin, of course). The warmth was indescribably good. A small smile made its way towards his face as he watched Eiji prance ahead of Momoshiro and Kaidoh, wearing his Fila cap. Oishi and Kawamura were, as usual, trying to separate the two kouhai before a full-scale argument could explode. Inui was jotting down data about some unknown, invisible entity he seemed to be immensely interested in, and Tezuka was silently walking on his other side where Fuji wasn't.

Having no real group of friends since childhood, it was a welcome feeling for him, the feeling of brotherhood and unbreakable friendship between them. It was something rare, after all, their friendship.

"Ne, Ryoma, I noticed…" Fuji started curiously.

Ryoma yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Hmm?"

"You seem really tired," Fuji continued. "Are you sure you're fine?"

On his other side, he could feel Tezuka's slightly worried gaze on him. Inwardly, he smiled. They were like big brothers worried sick about their little brother. "Hai, senpai, I'm fine. It's just the fatigue from the pro circuit training and tournaments. I_ swear_ they don't let you get an ounce of sleep."

"Then maybe you should get some naps," Fuji suggested. Fuji never really noticed it or thought any of it, but he knew that the impulsive need to protect Ryoma like a brother slowly developed in him. He treated and viewed Ryoma just like he treated and viewed Yuuta (though he would never dare voice this to Yuuta for fear of his little brother trying to decapitate Ryoma in jealousy… or something like that).

"I'm fine, senpai," murmured Ryoma with a small smile. "I've got double-period English this afternoon. That's plenty of time for naps."

Tezuka sighed. "Won't your English instructor be mad?"

"As long as I show her I know the stuff, she won't bother me, buchou," Ryoma reasoned. "I've been using the language all my life; it's like, easier than riling up Momo-senpai."

Fuji chuckled, drawing the young boy closer as Eiji jumped into Momoshiro and Kaidoh's argument, much to Oishi's headache. Ryoma slightly leaned into Fuji, groaning in sleepiness as he blinked his eyes groggily. Fuji mussed his hair like one would do with a cat, half-expecting to receive a purr from the younger boy. He wasn't disappointed.

If Rikkaidai's big baby was Kirihara Akaya, who acted tough and unmovable in front of others, they had their own too. No matter how tough Ryoma appeared to be, they all knew that he was one big baby inside.

Tezuka shook his head slightly, chuckling. "Never mind I asked, then."

Ryoma grinned lopsidedly, still leaning against Fuji as they entered the corridors of the first floor, heading straight towards the staircases towards Ryoma's third floor room. The first years were always situated on the fourth floor and on half of the third floor. Half of the juniors were on the third floor as well, and the rest were on the second floor. The seniors were always on the first floor of the building.

Ryoma thought it was stupid, but it was their arrangement rules. Not that it really mattered, anyways.

As they entered proceeded up the second flight of stairs along with a throng of homeroom-bound younger students, attention gathered towards them. It was rare for a senpai to ascend to the floors of the younger years. It was even rar_er_ to see a senpai good-naturedly slinging an arm around a transferee kouhai.

Students whispered and pointed shamelessly among themselves as they passed by. The group was quite famous for the tennis club fiasco, and the whole school knew about them. Most students rooted for them, and most students liked them because not only were they really good-looking, they were all approachable and worlds better than the current worthless tennis team.

Compared to the tennis club members of the school right now, they were heaven-sent angels. They weren't the only victims of the abuse of those particular students; there were many others in their wake, and many others preceding them. The 'rich kids' group weren't really all that famous. _In_famous, more like.

They stopped right outside Ryoma's room at the third floor. Before anyone could speak, there was a loud shriek from a girl and a squawk of surprise from a boy.

"SENPAI!" screamed two familiar loud mouths. Horio dropped the notebook he was holding and Tomoka spilled her water over a dumbfounded Sakuno's desk.

"Ara…? Aaa, Horio-kun, ne?" Oishi recounted. "It's nice to see that you're here as well. I didn't know you were classmates with Ryoma."

Kachiro and Katsuo, who were both shocked as well, looked at each other behind Horio.

Ryoma countered, pulling away slightly from Fuji. "Oi, Oishi-senpai, I said they were here earlier, didn't I?"

"Maa, but I didn't know they were your classmates," Oishi chuckled.

"Ryoma? Didn't they call him '_Echizen_' before?" Kachiro muttered.

"Maa ne. I guess they're really good, close friends now," Katsuo muttered back.

The whole class was silent, listening to the conversation diligently. Outside, the corridors were at a halt, the students milling to take a glance at their senpais who very seldom visited these floors.

"Horio has grown an inch," Inui noted, his trusty pen flitting over his notebook. "Kachiro has grown an inch and a half. Katsuo has grown half an inch. Tomoka… has not grown. Sakuno has grown 2 inches."

He nodded a few more times, revising some notes here and there and tweaking some data. Ryoma sighed in exasperation. "Inui-senpai, what can I do to separate you from that notebook of yours?"

"Do you honestly want me to answer that question?" Inui smiled imposingly behind his glasses, the lenses glinting under the early afternoon light streaming from the windows.

Ryoma inwardly shivered. He could see a bubbling, fizzling, smoking concoction of who-knows-what inside a glass mug (which he would forever respect for the strength it displayed against the possibly corrosive acid it contained) being presented before him by a white-clad mad-scientist-ish Inui. The older player could become really sadistic at times, even at par with Fuji. He did _not_ want to try his luck on this one. "I said nothing."

Momoshiro and Eiji broke out laughing at the nervous, apprehensive look on Ryoma's face, knowing that he was apparently hoping for the worst: being the guinea pig for the new Inui Juice Insert-Whatever-Title-Here Version Insert-Whatever-Decimal-Number-Here.

"Maa, maa, the bell is about to ring, and it's about time we go back to our own classrooms," Fuji smiled, firmly placing two slender but strong hands on Ryoma's smaller shoulders and steering him into the classroom. He released his shoulders with two square pats. "Make sure you get enough naps during English."

The whole class sweat dropped at this. It was probably the first time for them to see a college-bound, honest senpai like Fuji say something like that to a kouhai.

"You got that right," Ryoma yawned, before stretching his arms and shoulders and collapsing on his chair.

"Yosh! Oi, gaki, remember your promise, we'll fetch you right here in front of your classroom four o'clock sharp, ok? Make sure you're ready!" Momoshiro bid, waving his goodbye with a silly grin pasted on his face.

Kaidoh hissed a 'bakayarou' comment, earning a sideways glare from the power player. Kawamura sweat dropped as he walked alongside the two kouhai. Inui continued jotting down notes and observing his surroundings, freaking out several first years who weren't used to his strange behavior. He was muttering something about 'cow' and 'dung' and 'lab' and 'juice'.

"Mata naaa, o-chi-bi-chan! Eat all you can later, ochibi-chan's treat, nya! Ya-hoiii!!" Eiji bounced, clinging to his partner as they walked back towards the staircases. Fuji moved away from Ryoma and gave him another hair muss, before walking back towards Tezuka, who was waiting patiently for the tensai.

"Take some rest, Ryoma," Tezuka said, regarding Ryoma with a level stare that made the simple remark a stern command.

Ryoma nodded immediately. "Hai, I will, buchou."

Fuji and Tezuka walked away, tailing after the others who were already at the stairwell. Even from that far, Ryoma could hear Eiji's cheerful, loud remarks. The acrobat player never really lacked energy, no matter how lacking he seemed to have been in stamina during their middle school years. Ryoma knew that it wasn't the case nowadays. Eiji could play an endurance game with Inui and Kaidoh and hold it out.

Ryoma yawned and moved his way towards his seat, as his classmates started _un_-muting themselves.

One girl approached him even before he could take his seat. "Echizen-kun knows the senpais?"

Ryoma stingily replied. "Isn't that obvious?"

Another one approached. "Ne, did you just call Tezuka-senpai 'buchou', Echizen-kun?"

"Are you deaf?" Ryoma shot back, words dripping with heavy sarcasm.

"Oi, oi, Echizen, is that the way to treat our classmates?" Horio loudly remarked, making Ryoma inwardly wince. "Come on, all they're asking for is some information!"

Katsuo and Kachiro both inched away from Horio, while Tomoka nodded eagerly along with the boy. Sakuno simply fidgeted in her seat, unspeaking.

"Well then why don't _you_ give them information, Horio? You were on the team with me too," sighed Ryoma. "Besides, I am _dead tired _from that hellish training the coaches made us do. Do you know how _hard_ it is to train for the Grand Slams, Horio? No, you don't. So _please_ tone your voice down. You heard buchou, you heard Fuji-senpai. I need _rest_."

With that, he slumped down on his seat and dropped his head on his folded arms over the desk, closing his eyes while waiting for blissful class silence descended on the noisy room. In his mind's eye, he could see his classmates starting to mill around Horio and Tomoka, asking questions about the team. He could also see Horio's head inflating, and Tomoka's pigtails standing on end with the attention. The noisy classroom now seemed even noisier.

He sighed in exasperation, burrowing his face deeper into his arms as he wished for the class to breeze past so he could spend more time with his teammates.

* * *

He had a new discovery.

Wishes worked!

The classes breezed past the hot afternoon approaching summer. He didn't even notice a thing. Of course, it most probably was because he was asleep more than half the time, but still, it was impressive how fast time seemed to swish past without one noticing.

Not that he was anywhere near objecting, though.

Ryoma leaned back in his chair and stretched as the teacher exited the classroom, leaving the class in a sudden burst of energy and activity. Bones in his back popped into place, and his elbow and shoulders felt extremely relieved after being fixed in one position for more than half of the afternoon.

"Oi, Echizen, is it true that you're gonna have an eat-all-you-can party with senpai-tachi?!" Horio _screeched_ loudly. He absently wondered how the supposedly male vocal chords were able to produce such sounds.

Ryoma winced, swearing his ears were bleeding now. "A-Aa, I am."

Murmurs and whispers ran out in the whole of the classroom at this statement. "Ne, Echizen-kun, who's going to pay for it? Is it the senpai's treat? You're so lucky!" gushed one of the girls, one of the spawned fans.

Ryoma sighed, picking his bag up and stuffing his math notebook into it, before standing up and stretching again. "Nope, it's my treat today," he yawned out. "Former tennis team members can come," he said to Horio, Kachiro and Katsuo.

"Ehh? How about us, Ryoma-samaaaa?" Tomoka pulled out.

Ryoma sighed, sweat dropping. "Whatever."

"Hyaaaaa! Sakuno, hear that? We can go too!"

"E-Eto… is it really alright? I mean—it's on Ryoma-kun and all…"

"I said its fine, Ryuuzaki," Ryoma cut her off. "It's not much anyways, just a few thousand."

"_Just?!_" came Momoshiro's loud voice as he barged into the room and grabbed Ryoma's head. Ryoma, for the umpteenth time that day, proceeded choking under Momoshiro's hand. "Oi, gaki, if you're so rich, how about treating us to lunch this whole month, eih?"

"Masaka!" Ryoma scowled, pulling away from Momoshiro and picking his bag up again from the floor. "I'm not treating _you,_ you eat like a wild boar."

"Eh—oi, gaki! Why're you calling your senpai a wild boar?!"

"It's true, isn't it? Fsssshhh…" Kaidoh smirked from the doorway.

"Mamushi, shut up."

"What did you _say_?!?"

"I said _shut up!"_

"Why you—"

"Ahh, ahh, Momo, Kaidoh, you can't do that! We need to go now so we can make the best of the eat-all-you-can treat!" Eiji encouraged.

It was effective. Kaidoh and Momo immediately broke up, grabbing Ryoma by both arms and pulling him out of the room past a sweat dropping Oishi, an impassive Inui, a chuckling Fuji and an exasperated Tezuka.

"Eat-all-you-can! Eat-all-you-can!" chanted Momo and Eiji as they marched down the stairs, tailed by Horio, Katsuo, Kachiro, Tomoka and Sakuno.

"Itai—ita—Momo-senpai—itai yo!" Ryoma winced in pain as Momoshiro and Kaidoh mercilessly dragged him down the stairwell. "Oi, I'll trip—hey, if I fall down the stairs and I disable myself, I'll hold you guys responsible! And you won't see my Cross Split Serve anymore!"

At the mention of the previously tackled unknown technique, Momoshiro and Kaidoh both let the freshman go, stopping in their tracks and stopping the stairwell traffic as well.

"Dakara, what's this Cross Split Serve anyways?!" insisted Momoshiro.

"Mou, ochibi, keeping secrets is no way to treat a senpai!" Eiji reasoned, trying to persuade the smaller boy to give in and show them or at least _tell_ them what the Cross Split Serve was about.

"Fssssshhhh… or maybe you're afraid that we'll be able to counter the technique if you tell us?"

"There is a 65 percent chance that Ryoma is hesitant because I might record data on his technique."

Ryoma sighed heavily. "You guys _won't_ stop pestering me until I tell you, will you?"

"Nope," Eiji, Kaidoh, Inui, Momoshiro and Eiji all said at the same time.

Ryoma leveled them with a measuring gaze for a while, before sighing heavily, his shoulders visibly sagging. "Wish on your lucky stars that the street courts are free today," Ryoma snorted, heading down the stairwell and into the front door lockers, opening his locker and pulling out his tennis bag.

"Hua! Ochibi-chan, your gear is _nice_!" Eiji gushed, snatching the bag from his grasp and examining it. "Signature Yonex! You racket inside too, your balls too, your jackets, your… your everything!!! This must be _really_ expensive!"

"I can get you guys stuff for free if you want," Ryoma shrugged, starting to walk out the main doors and letting Eiji gush over his stuff. "Yonex is one of my sponsors and advertising companies. I do advertisements for them by wearing and using their stuff."

As they walked out into the school grounds, Ryoma asked, "Ne, Inui-senpai, you're good at Physics, aren't you?"

"Hmm?" Inui hummed, adjusting his glasses before nodding. "So far, I've been scraping A's."

"Sou," Ryoma nodded in understanding. "Then you would understand if I told you that my Cross Split Serve is basically the principle of cohesion and adhesion of charged particles during an extreme torque spin, accelerated by the wind thrust and lateral-apical force thrust focus, won't you?"

There was silence.

"I did _not_ understand a word you just said, Ryoma."

"I wasn't talking to you anyways, Momo-senpai."

"You wouldn't understand no matter how much he explains anyways, baka."

"Oiya, mamushi, who're ya callin' baka?!"

"Isn't that obvious?!"

"Kono yarou--!"

"Impossible!" Inui suddenly explained after a couple of seconds of digesting and mentally analyzing and visualizing every single word Ryoma had said. "Echizen, that's impossible. Virtually impossible."

"Sou ka?" Ryoma said, cocking his head to the side slightly while sticking his bottom lip out in a thoughtful pout. "Virtually, it is, yes. But I've been able to do impossible shots before. Like the sideward thrust of the Cyclone Smash that makes it equal to Momo-senpai's dunk… the Cool Drive that makes a U-turn towards the sky… and hey, Fuji-senpai's Hakugei is virtually impossible too! No one would imagine applying a sliding bottom-to-top spin to make the ball _hop_ in midair and then land back down again!"

"But still… lateral-apical force thrust focus?" Inui repeated, apparently having difficulty believing.

"Saa, I knew you wouldn't believe until you saw it with your own eyes anyways," snorted Ryoma. "Just wait for an opportunity where I'd need to use it… if you want, you can create your own opportunity where I'd need to use it. Doesn't matter to me," he shrugged as they walked down the sidewalk. He was aware of all the ears strained to their limits over the traffic noise, trying to hear what he was saying.

"And besides, impossible shots aren't all that impossible if you add a little tennis math to them," smirked Ryoma. "I just discovered that torque, speed, acceleration, force and centrifugal force mechanics are really easy in Physics. You'll see more of my shots with them… like the Cross Split Smash—"

"Cross Split Smash?" Oishi repeated.

"—my Q-Serve, and the _Magnet Balls_, as Kevin liked to call them… those are two different techniques under one concept… and uhh… there's…"

"Exactly _how many_ techniques did you make while you were at the top pro, eih?" Momoshiro asked.

"I don't know, honestly," muttered Ryoma. "What was that other one? Eto… ah, yeah! The Sun Center."

"Sun Center?"

"Sun… Center?"

"Weird name," remarked Eiji. "It kinda imagine it like the Tezuka Zone and Echizen Zone… really weird, nya."

Ryoma chuckled. "Yeah, well, that's what Kevin was imagining when he named the technique. I just can't think of another name for it so I just went with his flow no matter how absurd it sounded," he snorted. "By the way, where's Taka-san?"

"Ah, he went back home early to help prepare for us," Fuji explained. "I sent an email to him that we'll be stopping over at the street courts for a while and I just asked him to bring over the food to the street courts, since it's within walking distance anyways. It'll be fun that way, don't you think? Outdoor tennis eat-all-you-can picnic."

"Yosh! Picnic! Nya, Oishi, do you remember the last time we went to a picnic, ne, ne?" Eiji eagerly bounced ahead of Oishi, walking backwards, much to Oishi's worry. "You were so funny when we went to a picnic last time; you had whip cream in your hair, nya!"

"Ahh, Eiji, don't mention that! And don't walk backwards, you might trip and injure yourself!" Oishi flustered.

"Heeeh…" Ryoma drew out calculatingly, his eyes narrowing into devious slits and his face morphing into a suggestive smirk. "So Oishi-senpai and Kikumaru-senpai go out for picnics, eih? _Alone?_"

"E-Eh, it's not like that, Ryoma, we're—"

"What do you _mean_ it's not like that?! Are you ashamed we spend time together, Oishi?" Eiji pouted, complete with tearful puppy eyes. Apparently, he didn't understand the undertones Ryoma was getting at. The youngest started snickering on a flustered Oishi's expense.

"A-Ah, Eiji, eto…"

Momoshiro burst out laughing at Oishi's red face and Eiji's innocence (or ignorance). Kaidoh resisted the urge to guffaw, while Fuji simply chuckled in amusement.

"The gaki's got you there, Oishi-senpai!" Momoshiro laughed, patting Oishi on the back. "I feel for you."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Ryoma muttered under his breath as he smirked, before falling into step between Tezuka and Fuji to avoid the commotion the others were causing.

"Did you get enough rest, Ryoma?" Tezuka asked out of the blue, making Ryoma look up to him slightly.

"Hai," Ryoma nodded, yawning. Rest reminded him of sleep, and sleep reminded him of his sleepiness.

"Don't say things while your actions are contradicting them, Ryoma," Fuji chuckled. "You're still sleepy, aren't you?"

"Well, I'd guess it's the jetlag and time zone difference. I just came back yesterday after all…" Ryoma muttered. "Not to mention that darned old man didn't let me get a blink of sleep on the plane, giggling over his magazines and all… I'm surprised the airport police didn't cart him off to jail for bringing so many Playboy Magazines. He's got a _bag_ of them."

"Aa, sou ka," Momoshiro nodded. "So your dad is with you, eih?" he deduced, already used to the perverted nature of Ryoma's father. "I can't imagine how you managed to stay on an 18-hour plane ride with him _alone_. No, I can't. Why didn't you bring your mom along or something?"

"Okaa-san has to stay in San Francisco(1) for a while to stand as Kevin's guardian for his case," Ryoma explained, shrugging. "I thought I could bear the 18 hours of torture, but it _was_ hell's torture after all."

"Kevin's case?" Oishi repeated. "Is there something up with him?"

"Aaaah, gomen, we didn't tell you guys, ne?" Fuji apologized sheepishly. "Ryoma sent an email to me and Tezuka about that matter before, and we kind of forgot to tell you."

"Mou! Fu-jiiii! I _thought_ we were _best friends_!" pouted Eiji, stopping Fuji in his tracks by crouching low in front of the said tensai like a kitten begging for attention, complete with the tearful expression.

Fuji chuckled, patting Eiji's head gently. "Gomen, I just had a lot on my mind back then. I think Ryoma sent that email during the time when we were in trouble with the tennis club, ne, Tezuka?"

Tezuka nodded in reply.

"See?" Fuji amended. "We really didn't have time to think much about it, much less tell you guys about the email."

As they walked on, Ryoma sighed. "Kevin filed a child abuse case against his father. His father was arrested also for drug trafficking and illegal possession of fire arms. He kind of saw it as an opportunity and told me about it, and I told my mom and dad about it, and so my mom and dad decided to take Kevin in until he's old enough to legally stand on his own feet. My mom stood as his guardian for the case."

"Sou," nodded Oishi. "That's good for him, isn't it? I'm kind of surprised that your mom and dad would bother, though."

Ryoma sighed, rubbing his head slightly. "No matter how impossibly stupid this might sound, my dad's actually a good person when it comes down to what matters. And my mom… well, she's got some abuse history with Kevin's dad too."

"Fssshhhh, abuse history?"

"Hmm, she worked for Kevin's dad's tennis club as an instructor before, and basically, she's the reason why my dad challenged Kevin's dad to a match. Don't tell him I told you, though, he'll be after my neck," Ryoma explained.

Eiji was about to say something when a shout called their attention. Eiji whirled around with a wide smile, recognizing the voice.

"Taka-san!!! Sushiiiiiii!!!"

Massive sweatdrop. "Somehow, that didn't bring up the right image in my head," muttered Ryoma as Momoshiro and Eiji rushed towards Kawamura, who was standing by the staircase to the street courts. Kaidoh followed, hissing. Oishi stumbled after Eiji, his hand clutched in the acrobat player's crushing grip.

"Maa na, Eiji has Taka-san equals sushi in his head right now," chuckled Fuji, planting a firm hand on Ryoma's shoulder and pushing him gently forward. "Saa, let's go, it's not polite to keep the food waiting, Ryoma-chan."

"Don't call me that," grumbled Ryoma, pouting as they walked towards Taka and Oishi, who were both struggling to keep Momoshiro and Eiji away from the wooden circular stack of trays containing the sushi. Kaidoh was egging Momoshiro on, and all of them were pretty sure it was going to end in another one of those fights they always have again.

Tezuka sighed, shaking his head like a grandfather looking over naughty little grandchildren. Ryoma almost guffawed, stopping himself midway.

"…what?"

"You look like a grandpa when you do that."

"Pfft!"

"Not a word, Fuji, not a word."

Fuji laughed as they approached the others, snickering and giggling all the way as they ascended the stairs, leaving Momoshiro and Kaidoh to help Taka-san carry the sushi trays.

"Ne, senpai-tachi, why do _we_ have to carry these trays?!"

"Fsssssshhhh…"

"Because you're younger," Eiji reasoned out.

"But there's Ryoma."

"He can't carry it," Eiji reasoned out.

"Yes he can!"

"No he can't."

"Yes he can!"

"No he can't."

"Yes he can!"

"No he can't."

"Yes he can!"

"No he can't."

"Alright, alright, _enough!_" snapped Oishi. "Eiji, come here and stay beside me. _Behave._ Momoshiro, Kaidoh, just bear with it, okay? Inui's weights are probably heavier than those anyways," he sighed, muttering the last part under his breath.

"Mm? Were you saying something?" Inui asked politely, adjusting his glasses as they glinted under the yellow setting sun.

"A-Ah, no, not really," Oishi waved dismissively, shaking his head and laughing nervously. Inui looked at him contemplatively for a few seconds, before nodding and turning his attention back to his beloved notebook.

"I wonder if there are old teams here…?" Ryoma muttered out loud to himself. "I'd like some opponents. None of the senpais have rackets today…"

They entered the courts, and found the first half near the streets was occupied by some amateur, mundane players. They moved on to the other side of the courts, walking slowly while chatting.

"Ah, senpai! There's a good spot!" Horio exclaimed, pointing over to an unoccupied section of the bleachers.

"Ahh, that's good, one of the bleachers are empty," Oishi smiled, heading over immediately and leading Momoshiro and Kaidoh to the seats.

As the others set up the food party, Ryoma stretched his back languidly like a cat, pleased to feel his bones pop back into place and release pent up tension in his muscles. He observed the courts below them, noting that they were newly built and quite clean. There were some random players using one of the five courts, but otherwise, this half was virtually empty. Normally, he would expect someone had reserved these courts, because they seemed a good spot for practicing, but since they were here already, he might as well just make the best of it.

He sighed and shrugged, unbuttoning his white Seigaku polo shirt which served as his uniform and draping it casually over the back of the bleacher seat his bag occupied. Underneath was his usual white, blue and red tennis shirt. He tapped both toes against the ground alternately, making sure his shoes were properly set and fit with each foot before unzipping the bag and pulling out a familiar red racket.

He went unnoticed as he walked past his teammates and down the bleacher stairs to the tennis courts below, inspecting his racket and making sure there were no loose strings. He sealed the last two steps of the stairs in a lithe leap, landing on both feet agilely on the edge of the courts. He walked towards the serving point, circling around several times and examining the premise.

"Heeehhh…"

He smirked. It was quite good for street courts. He could hear his teammates still preoccupied with setting the food up, and so, he didn't bother telling them that he was going to start warming up. He pulled out one yellow ball from his pocket, twisting it slightly in his hand for a while and looking at it thoughtfully as he tossed it up and down.

One toss up. It comes down. Another stronger toss up. Down.

Then, he leaned back slightly tossing it upwards stronger than the last few tosses, slowly bent and lowered his back, carefully swinging his racket to the side, before letting free of his muscle control and letting his back and body spring back upwards, hitting the ball with precision as he sent it bulleting towards the opposite court with the speed of more than 200kph in less than 2 seconds.

The loud, sharp sound of perfect ball impact resounded throughout the courts, mimicking that of a shotgun firing and catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Heads snapped towards the source of the sound as Ryoma let go of a stream of breath he's been holding.

There was silence as his teammates stared at him frozenly.

He sighed, lowering his head.

"That. Ball. Was. _Pathetic_," he groaned. "I can_not_ believe I got this worse after not playing tennis for just two days!"

"That ball…" Momoshiro muttered, eyes wide.

"…was fast," finished Kaidoh, reading exactly what was inside his rival's head.

"Nope, that wasn't," sighed Ryoma, pulling out another ball and tossing it up and down carefully, slowly. "The Scud Serve is much faster, and so is Inui-senpai's Waterfall."

Inui nodded. "Indeed. That ball was roughly around 200kph, while my Waterfall goes up to 211kph and the Scud Serve goes up to 209kph."

Fuji was about to remark about something when he got interrupted _yet again_.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," sneered an unpleasantly familiar voice. Heads turned towards the other side of the empty bleachers, where Yokubou, Ruichi, Nori and Takeda were all standing, large tennis bags over their shoulders. "If it isn't the Seigaku wanna-be tennis team."

"You seem to be having quite party here, huh?" Takeda remarked. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to move out. These courts are _our_ territory."

"Well said, Take!" Nori cackled.

"I would think not," another familiar voice came, but this time it wasn't entirely so unpleasant to Ryoma's ears. Well, compared to the other company's voices anyways. Atobe stood on the courts just across Yokubou's company, clad in his ever-gallant school's uniform. Hyotei Koto Gakkou (High School) apparently was as rich as it's counterpart, Hyotei Gakuen (Middle School).

Behind Atobe stood a certain redhead recognizably Mukahi Gakuto, a guy Ryoma remembered as Oshitari Yuushi, the ever-loyal Munehiro Kabaji and a sleeping Akutagawa Jirou on Kabaji's back. Ootori Choutarou and Shishido Ryou came waltzing in, the former holding an ice cream cone in his hand and the latter apparently extremely annoyed.

All of them were wearing Hyotei Koto Gakkou's uniform.

"Yokubou-san, you know as well as I do that your father and _my_ father are _associates_ and they _both_ own this place," Atobe pressed firmly, a defiant look set upon his handsome, daring face. The aura of clear arrogance matched his mood _perfectly_. Ryoma inwardly shivered and side-stepped away from Atobe instinctively.

"Atobe," hissed Yokubou. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Apparently, Yokubou wasn't too happy to see Atobe as well.

"Well, we received news that an old friend just came back from abroad," shrugged Atobe without sparing Ryoma a glance. "We just thought it would be proper to extend a warm welcome by dropping by even if we're on the way to somewhere else."

Ryoma huffed, crossing his arms and pouting while muttering curses under his breath, curses cruel enough to make Kaidoh piss his pants. Fuji chuckled, watching the younger boy.

"Ara… Atobe-san and his team all went to the same schools?" Katsuo whispered.

"I didn't know that either!" Kachiro muttered back.

Horio snorted. "What's this! You didn't know?!" he exclaimed, much to the exasperation of the other two boys. The other two listened anyways, not having that much of a choice in the matter. "It was rumored that Atobe-san made a way for his entire team to get into Hyotei Koto Gakkou to maintain the strong tennis team legend they have!"

"As expected from Atobe-san, ne…" Katsuo sighed.

"Che!" Tomoka exhaled, her pigtails swishing in the air as she whipped her head aside in apparent disgust. "I don't care if he's rich and handsome, I don't like him one bit!"

"Tomoka-chaaan!" Sakuno reprimanded, clamping a hand over a struggling Tomoka.

"Old friend?" Takeda repeated. "Here? Where?"

Ryoma smirked, hefting his favorite red racket over his shoulder and walking up front.

"Yo, Yokubou-san," he greeted the grimacing older player. "Long time no see, ne?"

"Y-You!" shouted Yokubou in surprise.

"Me? Me what?"

"You brat! I'll make you pay for yesterday!" growled Yokubou, charging towards the younger player, only to be restrained by his teammates.

"Oi, Yokubou, get yourself together, will you?" Ruichi sighed. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"He's got a point, you know," hummed Ryoma, balancing himself on one foot as he tapped a ball with his other foot and rolled it towards himself. "But you guys are an embarrassment anyhow."

"Ryoma," Tezuka warningly voiced, stepping forward.

Ryoma sighed, lowering his head. "Hai, gomen, buchou."

"Buchou?" echoed Nori from the other side, still holding a slightly struggling Yokubou, who immediately stopped moving at hearing what the smaller boy had just said. "Tezuka… you're this brat's buchou?"

Tezuka nodded in affirmation. "During middle school, yes."

There was silence as the tennis club members digested this new, shocking information about the player who had beaten one of their best just the day before. The two teams stood facing each other in the street courts, attracting other people's attention.

Then, Ryoma broke the silence.

"Anyhow, I don't want to have a match with you guys," he shrugged. "That's more boring than boring," he said, turning on his heel towards the other team standing beside the former Seigaku team. "Ne, Atobe-san, how about showing me that new and improved Tanhausër Smash of yours?"

Atobe sighed, running a hand through the fringes of his perfectly done hair. "I'm afraid I can't humor you today, Mr. Wimbledon Champion."

Ryoma's face morphed into a dark pout. "Nande?"

"Because we have an appointment right after this and we need to go _now_," explained Atobe, snapping his fingers to signal his teammates. "Looking forward to a match with you soon, Echizen-kun."

"Kei-chaaan, do we _really_ have to go?" whined a now-awake Jirou. "I don't want to go to the dentist."

"Do you want your toothache to continue, Jirou?"

"Nooo…"

"Then we're going. The whole team even came to give you emotional support," Atobe sighed in exasperation.

There was silence.

"W-Wi…" Takeda stuttered. "Wimbledon…?"

There was silence again.

"Ah, I see Echizen-kun is back, eh, Fuji-kun?" another familiar voice came from behind the former Seigaku tensai. Fuji need not turn around to recognize the voice.

"Tachibana-san," Fuji replied, acknowledging the presence of the captain and star player. He nodded once as a confirmation to what the other had said.

"Momoshiro-kun!" greeted a chirpy voice from behind Momoshiro, making the power player jump slightly.

"A-Ah… Ann-chan! Don't startle me like that; I don't want to die of heart attack so early on…" Momoshiro nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head.

"Baka," muttered both Kamio and Kaidoh at the same time, resulting in a three-way glaring contest.

Shinji pushed his way through the crowd up to the front where he could see the two players sizing each other up in the court. "How disappointing. If we could have gotten here earlier, I could have played a match against Echizen-kun first… this is really disappointing. If only Kamio wasn't stalling by arguing with Ann-chan and Tachibana-san, then I could have had a chance to measure my abilities against the current Wimbledon Champion… this is so disappointing…"

"I see," Fuji nodded. "Only Kamio, Shinji, Sakurai and Ishida are going to the same school as you are, am I right? Fudou Koto Gakkou."

"Hai," nodded Tachibana. "Mori and Uchimura both went to Kyoto to study."

"Sou ka," came Ryoma's voice. "Fudou Koto Gakkou, ka? That kinda sounds like Fudomine."

Then the younger boy sighed. "These bastards spoiled my mood," he said, jerking his head towards Yokubou and company. "Can we just go to someone's home and have the party there? It's offing, being with people like them."

"E-EHH??!?!"

"And I have something I want to tell you guys."

"Huh?"

"Something…?"

"Sou," Ryoma nodded, pulling on his polo shirt again but leaving it open while he stuffed his racket back into his bag and zipped the bag close. "It's important. I have an idea."

"An idea?" Oishi repeated.

"Nya, ochibi, what's this?"

"Something that came up in my mind when I saw Tachibana-san and the other former Fudomine members," Ryoma replied in a clipped voice, indicating that he was not going to elaborate any further.

Something clicked in Fuji, Inui, Tachibana and Tezuka's minds.

"Masaka, Ryoma, are you…?" asked Fuji.

"Exactly."

There was silence as Ryoma hitched his bag up his shoulder. "Well?"

Fuji sighed. "Can you guys carry the sushi up until my house?"

"NANI?!?!?"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Whew.

LOOOOOONG.

6,107 words. My hands are aching.

I thought of putting Atobe and Ryoma's encounter here, but… no, that is reserved for _another_ chapter.

Kia-chan is evil.

Anyhoooooow…

**Note: I am _changing _the school names to make it more _realistic. _The names will bear resemblance to the old names, though, so that you guys won't be too confused. **

There. My eyes are demanding fitful sleep. It is currently 2.45 AM Central Time. (Yes, I am more productive during nighttime and midnight graveyard hours.)

**Kiasidira**** Ixari**  
_First Publication Version: 11.23.06  
First Revision Version: 07.25.07_


	6. Step Six: Fudomine Style

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

I'm on a writing spree right now. Hmmmm… I'm maintaining two stories right now, including this story, but this story goes on a faster pace than the other one. The other one I only need to update weekly, but this one I update every 2 or 3 days. We keep it fast. You guys like it better that way anyhow, don't you?

Buiii.

REVIEW PLEASE! The reviews keep the writer going.

**To Liek-san: **First and foremost, thanks a _lot_ for the review. I'm glad that you took the trouble to review my story even if you're "too lazy to log in" as you had said. Anyways, personally, I really can't decide as well, and that is why I'm going with what the readers want. The problem with me is that I'm okay with all of these pairs. I can manage all of these pairs too, since I'm used to wiggling my way around different pairs and avoiding conflicts. That's why I'm asking the reader's opinions. It's just my indecision, that's all. And the characters… well, I try my best to keep them in character. Everyone does. It's just that some people just don't get the flow of the character at times. I'm glad you like the characterization! Thank you so much for the review. I didn't know how to reply to you, since you were on anonymous, so I just put an insert here.

Thanks a lot to those reviewers who bothered reviewing the last few chapters! My fic has climbed a hundred reviews in less than two weeks, and I am SO surprised. Thanks a lot, you guys! Extra treat for you guys this chapter, there are lots of shockers!

**Note:** I'm so sorry about grammatical errors. It seems my writing skills are slipping a bit here, so I need to polish up again. Anyhow, please do bear with me! I'll try to read and reread each chapter before posting so that there will be lesser grammatical errors! Thanks a lot for your consideration!

**Warning:** Some spoilers for the manga and anime OVA ahead.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies. In addition, I do not own or hold any authority over DoCoMo Group, P&G, Life Card, Shiseido, Kobayashi Seiyaku and Yonex. I rightfully disclaim. I am merely using the names in this chapter.

* * *

**Step Six: Fudomine Style**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

In the end, Fuji's older sister provided them with a ride. Well, the sushi, at least. The rest of them had to walk, because there were far too many of them and there was no way they would fit inside the small black car.

"Why did Tachibana-san leave right away, Fuji?" Oishi asked as they walked on. Only the whole team was left together. Horio, Katsuo, Kachiro, Tomoka and Sakuno all went home after taking some sushi from the trays, since it was starting to get dark.

"He said they still had to practice for an upcoming exhibition match with Midorigaoka," Fuji explained. "Kamio just happened to have left his rackets in the street courts' locker rooms yesterday so he, Shinji and Ann dropped by with Kamio. Sakurai and Ishida were also waiting for them back at school."

"Sou," nodded Oishi.

"Neeee, Oishii, isn't Midorigaoka the elite tennis school?" Eiji remarked thoughtfully.

At the mention of "elite tennis", Ryoma's ears perked up, his head lifting in rapt attention visibly even if it was only a few centimeters. Tezuka's lips curled the slightest upwards, noting the behavior of the team's only freshman.

"Aa. They're the team who beat Rikkaidai Fuzokukoto in last year's Nationals," confirmed Oishi.

"Rikkaidai Fuzokukoto?" Ryoma repeated interestedly.

"Rikkai Daigaku Fuzokukoto is in the same district as Rikkaidai Fuzokuchuu. They are sister schools as well. The three most well-known middle schools here in Tokyo have sister high schools. This lessens the pressure on the parents of the students during middle-to-high school transition, as well as maintains the reputation of the school by retaining the good students, because schools retain the same names, like our school. Seishun Gakuen Chuu Gakkou and Seishun Gakuen Koto Gakkou. Then there's Hyotei Gakuen and Hyotei Koto Gakkou."

"Sou ka," nodded Ryoma. "So Seigaku for the middle-class but smart people; Rikkaidai for the sophisticated, famous and athletic; Hyotei for the rich and powerful. That explains much."

"Well, not _all_ are smart," Eiji pointed out recklessly. "Take Momo for example."

"Hey—"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot that!"

"You're too cruel!" wailed Momoshiro, crumpling in one corner.

Ryoma snorted. "Oh, get over it, it's true anyways," he waved dismissively, turning back to Inui. "So? Who are the players of Rikkaidai, then? Are they the same team?"

"This year, yes," Inui nodded. "I have confirmed it through Renji. Last year, Akaya Kirihara was only a freshman and by the rules, freshmen are not allowed to enter the line-up for the Nationals team of Rikkaidai. Of course, Kirihara didn't want to go down without a fight, but Yukimura placated him by some unknown method that I would particularly like to research."

"Heeeeh, so they're the same team too," smirked Ryoma. "This makes things interesting," he remarked as they entered Fuji's front yard, the tensai heading straight towards the front door and pulling out his keys. But before he could even insert the keys, the door was pulled open a bit harshly, revealing a harassed-looking and disgruntled Yuuta glaring murderously.

"Y-Yuuta?"

"Ittekimasu!" (1) he yelled into the house, storming past his elder brother and through the crowded front yard.

"Eh—matte, Yuuta! Where are you going?"

"School! Stupid Mizuki-buchou requested a sudden meeting out of the blue!" Yuuta yelled as he started running back towards the bus stop, checking his watch.

Fuji sighed. "Ever since he beat Mizuki, he's been calling him 'stupid Mizuki-buchou'. Sengoku mentioned something about a bet involved with the match, but I'm not sure what it was. What I'm sure is that it had something to do with Yuuta's sudden name-calling."

"Matte, matte, rewind," Ryoma said. "Mizuki is a captain."

Fuji nodded absently, letting them into the house as he removed his own shoes.

"And Sengoku… what does he have to do with anything?"

"Sengoku transferred to St. Peter's Center for Learning," explained Fuji.

"St. Peter's…"

"Center for Learning, yes," Inui nodded. "A school that is co-managed by the owner of St. Rudolph. The owner is a British-American, so the names are… well, recurring."

They moved into the spacious living room, and Kawamura moved into the kitchen with Oishi to prepare the sushi from the trays, which were dropped off by Fuji's older sister.

"Onee-san, are you going out again tonight?" called out Fuji towards the stairs, his voice carrying to the second floor.

"Hai!" his sister yelled back. "I'm getting dressed right now! I'm leaving the house to you, okay?"

"No problem!" Fuji yelled back, before turning to his friends again. "There, we have the house all night."

"Yatta!" Eiji exclaimed, dive-bombing into the soft couch.

"Ryoma, shouldn't you call home first? Your dad will get worried," Tezuka suggested silently, ever the careful buchou.

Ryoma nodded, turning to Fuji. "Fuji-senpai, can I use your phone?"

"Here," Fuji smiled, pushing the speakerphone on the living room side table towards him. "Yuuta seems to have misplaced the wireless phone somewhere again, so you'll have to use the speaker."

Ryoma nodded, pushing the green button and dialing his home number rapidly. He motioned for his Eiji and Momoshiro to stay quiet as the phone started ringing.

After two rings, someone picked up. A singsong voice came.

"Moshi moshi, Reika-chan, sorry I couldn't call you back earlier, I was a bit busy!"

There was silence.

Massive sweatdrops.

A throbbing vein.

"BAKA OYAJI!" Ryoma positively roared, startling Oishi, who dropped the knife on his own finger and started yelling in pain.

"Itai, I cut myself!"

"Nani?!?!? Nya, Oishi, daiiiijouuuubuuuu? Aibou!!!!" Eiji frantically wailed, rushing towards Oishi and pulling Oishi's finger towards his mouth.

"A-Ah, _Eiji_ What are you _doing?!_" Oishi exclaimed, trying to pull his finger out from Eiji's mouth.

"Wohooo, Eiji-senpai, that's hot!" Momoshiro cheered heartily, laughing his ass off. Kaidoh looked away with a red face and Inui started scribbling away madly. Fuji simply chuckled in amusement, settling beside Tezuka on the smaller, three-seat couch. Kawamura started cleaning the blood-spattered sushi and the bloodied knifeboard, while Tezuka simply sighed.

"Ou, seishounen! Nanda, it's only you? I thought it was someone more interesting…"

"Like _Reika-chan_?!" sneered Ryoma. "I'll tell okaa-san where you hid your precious Playboy Magazine Special French Edition."

"O-O-OI, SHOUNEN! YOU WOULDN'T DARE!"

"Oh, I would, if you start annoying me any further," Ryoma threatened, smirking in triumph. He knew his father's weakness better than anybody else did (well, except for his mother).

"What do you want anyways?!" roared Nanjiroh, apparently pissed off.

"I'll be home late. I won't be eating dinner," Ryoma sharply tacked.

"Fine," came Nanjiroh's sulky voice from the other side. "Don't blame me if your mother goes ballistic."

Ryoma rolled his eyes, knowing that his father was bluffing. There was no way Rinko would discourage going along with friends; the Echizen matriarch thought that Ryoma was far too much of a loner and reckoned that he should socialize more. "And make sure you feed Karupin," he added in a silent voice.

"I won't forget that; he'll scratch me to death," Nanjiroh deadpanned.

"Hell yes, he will," snorted Ryoma triumphantly. "My Karupin is very smart."

Nanjiroh grumbled some incomprehensible cursing from the other side, before saying, "Ah yeah, Kevin called. He was asking for you."

"I'll just call him back later then," muttered Ryoma, wondering what Kevin wanted this time. "Ja."

"Hn, ja. Be careful on your way home, we don't want you injured. Minna-san, please take care of my little champion here, okay? I'm counting on you all!"

Then the line went dead.

Silence.

"Baka oyaji," Ryoma grumbled, walking over and sinking into the couch between Tezuka and Fuji before crossing his arms and huffing like a child. His face morphed into a big pout. "He's so annoying."

"Come on, your dad obviously loves you very much!" Fuji doted.

"Fuji-senpai, shut it."

Fuji still doted nonetheless.

"So? Did anything else happen while I was away?" Ryoma snapped expectantly, snatching an eel sushi from the tray Kawamura just set down on the living room table. A red-faced Oishi placed a pitcher of juice on the table, followed by a tray of glasses, before sitting down beside a bouncing Eiji.

"Well…" Inui started, hitching his glasses higher up his nose. "…almost all of the Rokkaku players moved on into Akayama Gakkou, except for except for Kisarazu-san and Shudou-san. Kisarazu-san went to St. Peter's with his twin brother, and Shudou-san, from what I've heard, moved to Fukuoka with his family."

"Sou," nodded Ryoma disinterestedly. He wasn't really very interested with the Rokkaku team, since it reminded him of that loud first year he had to play years ago. He picked up a glass, poured himself a decent amount of tea, and drank up.

"And Atobe-san has an intimate relationship with Akutagawa Jiroh-san."

At this, Ryoma choked, coughing and heaving to clear his airway. Fuji, Momoshiro and Eiji laughed as the younger boy bent over and tried to remove the liquid from his airway. Fuji rubbed a soothing palm over Ryoma's back as he straightened up, taking deep calming breaths.

"You did _not_ just say that."

"I did."

Ryoma was silent and wide eyed for a moment.

"Inui-senpai."

"Hai?"

"Explain to me how the _HELL_ Akutagawa-san stands that pompous ass of a bastard!"

Inui shifted his glasses once more and sighed. "I am saddened to inform you that there is currently no data in my system regarding that particular matter."

"Maa, no one really knows, Ryoma," Fuji smiled, petting the shocked freshman's head gently like one would to a pet cat. Ryoma instinctively leaned towards the soft touch. "I guess Jiroh-kun has some bizarre way of being immune to Atobe-san."

"I would worship him if he shares that knowledge," Ryoma muttered under his breath, but the others did not hear him.

"Ne, Fujiiii," Eiji started, snatching another sushi from Momoshiro's tray.

"OI!" Momoshiro yelled indignantly.

"Hmm?" Fuji smiled.

"My sushi!"

"That's the reason why Atobe-san is always after your neck, you know," Eiji remarked as he munched.

"No, my sushi!"

"What reason?" Fuji repeated innocently.

"Eiji-senpaaaai!!"

"You call Akutagawa-san '_Jiroh__-kun_' all the time. No wonder Atobe-san's always eager to wring your neck," Eiji said after swallowing, leaving Momoshiro weeping for his lost sushi.

Fuji simply chuckled, opening his eyes a tad bit, enough to let through a hint of steel blue. "Maa, no matter how much he _wants_ to do it, he won't be able to get to me, that I'm sure of."

There was ultimate silence following his statement.

Eiji shivered. "Mou, Fuji, close your eyes!"

Fuji chuckled lightly behind his hand, closing his eyes once again and transforming from his "avenging angel" image to his "innocent angel" persona once more. He always liked that feeling of surging power whenever people would shiver and submit under his mere gaze.

"Such a sadist," grumbled Ryoma, shaking his head as he popped another bite-sized sushi into his mouth and chewed carefully. "So? Any other _developments_ you would like to tell me about, Inui-senpai?"

"Apart from the unconfirmed intimate relationship between Sanada Genichirou and Yukimura Seiichi, nothing else."

"Ah, well that one's not that all surprising. Sanada-san's obviously completely into his captain, so there's no mistake about that. I wonder who's the seme, though…" Ryoma added thoughtfully.

Again, all of them excluding Fuji and Tezuka face faulted after hearing such words come out from their baby boy. "R-RYOMA!"

"What?" Ryoma innocently asked, raising eyebrows. He was _sixteen_. They didn't honestly expect him to be completely innocent, did they?

"Don't you have an ounce of innocence in you?!" Momoshiro asked in mortification.

There was silence as Ryoma leveled Momoshiro with an exasperated glare. _Apparently, they do._

"Momo-senpai," he started.

"Hai?"

"Baka. I live with my dad, you know," he stated, as if it would explain everything (which it did, essentially).

There was silence.

Momoshiro chuckled nervously. "E-Eto… I just thought you didn't _know_ about those stuff since… well… eto… how should I say this… you seem to be…"

"Socially stunted?" suggested Inui thoughtfully.

"Yeah, that's righ—"

"Ah, Momo!" Eiji yelped.

There was a crash and the sound of glass breaking.

"Sorry about the glasses, Fuji-senpai, I'll just replace them," Ryoma stated simply, dusting off his hands after throwing the couch pillow straight at Momoshiro's face. Said player keeled over and crashed into the glasses on the table, in turn shattering them into shards.

"That's fine," Fuji nodded, chuckling. "But you know, I'd think Yukimura's the seme."

"Eh? Nande?" Ryoma pouted thoughtfully. In his point of view, Sanada seemed more likely to be the seme.

Fuji hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the noisy racket Eiji and Momo were making in the back while they cleaned up the shattered glasses. The said tensai mussed and twirled Ryoma's hair around his fingers slowly as he searched for the right words to express his thoughts. "You see, Yukimura's not as gentle as he appears to be."

Tezuka nodded in agreement, setting down his glass on the table. "Yukimura is not the captain of one of the strongest teams around for nothing, Ryoma. He can be quite the character."

"Eh?"

"I am kind of like him," Fuji explained. "Though I'm not as quite determined as he is, we have notable similarities. He can be quite fierce when it comes down to what really matters to him, but if you look at him at first glance, he would seem a gentle, harmless, smart young lad."

"Ah, sou… I kind of understand now. I mean, if Yukimura-san can be as scary as you are, then I'm pretty sure Sanada-san will buckle sooner or later," nodded Ryoma thoughtfully. Fuji simply smiled serenely again.

As the other former players settled back down on their seats after cleaning the mess up, Momoshiro sighed as he sank back into the pouf he was sitting in. "So, gaki? What's this overly important and urgent thing you had to tell us?"

"Fsssshh, this had better be worth hearing…"

"Oh, I'm sure it is," Fuji nodded, humming as he slung an arm around Ryoma. "Ne, Ryoma, you're gonna suggest forming a separate tennis club of our own, right?"

"That's right," nodded Ryoma, pulling his feet up on the sofa and sitting on them Indian style. "Form a tennis club of our own, start practicing, compete and win."

There was silence.

Then Momoshiro chuckled. "You think we haven't thought of that yet, gaki? Have you forgotten that Taka-san's business—"

"I know," nodded Ryoma. Honestly, his teammates were starting to disappoint him. He was _not_ stupid, and he was _not _a child any longer. He had his own _brain._

"And even if you know, you're still insisting…?" Momoshiro continued, raising both eyebrows. "Ne, gaki, there's a limit to stubbornness and persistence, you know."

"I know that too," confirmed Ryoma. The others remained silent. "I knew that you would refuse too. It's not like I didn't think about this first. If everything should go as planned, then we'll get our own team and sooner or later the school will recognize that our team is better than the other team… and will recognize us as the formal varsity tennis team."

"And, pray tell, what is this plan?" Tezuka asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ryoma smirked and leaned forward.

* * *

"Ohayou," Ryoma yawned sleepily, rubbing his head as he descended the stairs.

"Ohayou, Ryoma-san!" Nanako greeted, placing a bowl of rice on the table in front of Ryoma's seat before settling down on her own seat.

"Ou, seishounen! You're up early today!" Nanjiroh gaily greeted, grinning through his food. Then he squinted at Ryoma's uniform. "Nanda, Ryoma, you can't even wear your uniform properly!" Nanjiroh scolded, motioning for Ryoma to come forward. As the sleepy boy dragged himself over, Nanjiroh reached forward, arranging the boy's collar. A fatherly moment like that was unexpected and very rare, but Ryoma was far too sleepy to comment on it, and Nanjiroh was far too much in a good mood to destroy it.

Nanjiroh chewed on his food, patting Ryoma's chest after fixing the wrinkled collar. "Eat up, boy. It's not good to go out with an empty stomach," he remarked, gulping some water to push his food down and make room for more. "By the way, what was last night about? You were on the phone the whole night. Kevin?"

Ryoma shook his head. "Someone else."

"Someone… else? Masaka! You've got a _girlfriend_! Introduce me! Is she blonde? Has she got nice boobs? Introduce meee!!!!" Nanjiroh started bouncing on his seat expectantly like an eight-year-old looking forward to the prospect of a trip to the toy store.

"Urusai yo, oyaji," grumbled Ryoma, poking at a piece of meat with his chopsticks with a murderous look. "You're starting to annoy me again. No, I haven't got a girlfriend, it was someone else. And _if_ I ever _do_ get a girlfriend—"

"—or boyfriend—"

"—there is _no way_ in _hell_ I am introducing her to _you_," Ryoma finished with a tone that left little room for argument. And then he stopped short, settling a flat gaze on his father. "…did you just say _boyfriend_?!"

"Come _on_, Ryoma, I'm not _that_ stupid!" Nanjiroh chuckled. "My eyes are good enough to see that so far, you haven't got any girl friends. All you've got are boys milling around you.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "And you're gonna accept that."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" shrugged Nanjiroh, as if it was everyday your only son turns gay. "It's _your_ love life."

"I don't even _have_ a love life," snorted Ryoma, returning his attention to his food. He poked at it morosely, pouting. Images flitted through his mind, images of two certain persons he would entertain the idea of a love life with.

"Do you want to have one?" Nanjiroh whispered under ears, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at his son as Nanako hummed silently in the kitchen, having went to get more rice.

"Don't even think of suggesting anything, oyaji," Ryoma snapped. He'd had enough experience dealing with his father and love lives together, thank you very much.

Nanako giggled as Nanjiroh grumbled about Ryoma's stinginess. Honestly, the father and the son were far too alike.

"Oi, Ryoma! I'm here!" called out a familiar voice from outside.

"Ah!" Ryoma exclaimed, downing his bottle of milk quickly and picking his bags up, before hurrying over to the front door. "Ittekimasu!"

"Take care, Ryoma-san!"

"At least get yourself laid today, seishounen!"

"Shut up!" he roared, before grumbling his way to the front door. Slipping into his shoes, Ryoma walked out. "Ohayou, Momo-senpai!"

"Ohayou!" grinned Momoshiro, waving long, muscled arms. "Hurry up, we'll be late!"

"I'm there, I'm there!" sighed Ryoma, hurrying over and hitching himself on the back of Momoshiro's bicycle carefully. They started moving, and Ryoma relished the feel of the wind against his face. Moist summer heat in Japan was not too different from his hometown in Miami, but that didn't change the fact that he hated it.

"Did you finish those calls last night, Ryoma?" Momoshiro asked casually as they descended the road slope smoothly.

"Aa, all set," smirked Ryoma.

"Excellent!"

* * *

Kurenai-kochou eyed the nine young lads entering the school grounds, jostling and laughing with each other good-naturedly. Her eyes flitted towards the bespectacled young man smiling ever so slightly towards the youngest member in the group, a young, golden-eyed transferee from the United States.

She remembered talking with that young man, and she remembered asking the said player why such a famous international sports icon would bother going to their school instead of just enrolling in some prestigious school in the U.S., or maybe in Hyotei Koto Gakkou or Rikkaidai Fuzokukoto. Seishun Gakuen was a well-known school for raising normal kids into smart, responsible citizens, yes, but there stood the fact that it was a school for normal students.

Not that she wasn't happy with their new transferee. That was not the case. She was just befuddled, that was all.

And she still clearly remembered the young man's answer and the determined glint in those cat-like eyes burning, throbbing and glowing like molten gold.

_"I made a promise to my friends, and that's reason enough."_

She smiled subconsciously, recalling that simple sentence that changed her entire spectrum towards these students. These young lads were special. They were more than just normal high school students. It was impressing to her how such young people already held solid determination and direction in their eyes, determination and direction that was missing even in most adults.

They were so young, and yet they learned much more valuable life lessons than most adults do.

She was interested in how things would turn out if she conceded and let them do things according to their own will. Apparently, these boys refused to go down without a fight.

She remembered the serious and determined look on a certain young lad's face from last night. Never had she seen Tezuka so serious ever before. He was even more serious than he had been during their expulsion from the tennis club. That particular incident was politically ridden, and that was what she hated with this school.

When she started managing the school as head teacher around two years ago, she wished _so_ hard for those young boys to be gone from her school. They were nothing but headaches, and they brought politics and money into the school. Bad politics and bad money.

Personally, she did not want to expel those boys from the tennis club, seeing as they were promising and brought new hope to the varsity, but the school's financial standing was threatened. As such, she was forced to hand over and authorize a decision voted by the council majority. It was an 8-7 decision. Had there been just _one more_ person who refused, those boys' futures wouldn't have been jeopardized.

But it seems she'd been worrying about nothing at all.

Last night, when Tezuka approached her and told her of the team's intentions, she was miffed and utterly stilled. These boys really didn't know the meaning of _giving up_.

Yet even though she knew that this could possibly lead to a scandal in the school, she still authorized a council meeting. She wanted to _see_. She _needed_ to see what these boys were up to, what they were planning, and how they would rebound from their silence and stillness.

She needed to see how they would once again be reborn and rise to conquer.

This was the reason she became a teacher after all: to see her precious students bloom.

* * *

Tezuka raised his hand to politely disrupt the teacher during his History class.

"Y-Yes, Tezuka-kun?" stuttered the teacher. Apparently, teachers were still afraid of him.

"I would like to excuse Oishi and myself from the rest of the classes this morning, sensei," he politely said, rising from his chair and pulling out a folded note from the principal. "I have permission from Kurenai-kochou." (2)

The teacher ran over the note once and nodded in confirmation. "A-Aa, you may go."

"Thank you very much," bowed Tezuka respectfully, before silently exiting the room, followed by Oishi. As soon as they were outside, Oishi scanned the corridor, quickly finding Fuji, Eiji and Kawamura bowing themselves out of their rooms.

"Eiji!" Oishi called out, lowering his voice and motioning for them to come over.

Eiji waved happily, bouncing his way towards his partner with Fuji and Kawamura in tow. "We should get the kouhai-tachi, nya!"

"Kaidoh and Momo are in the same class," Oishi said. "Eiji, Taka-san, and I will go get them. Fuji, Tezuka, can you two go fetch Ryoma?"

"Sure," Fuji agreed, nodding. "We're off, then."

Fuji and Tezuka walked off towards the east stairwell, which was nearer to Ryoma's classroom, while the others proceeded to the opposite stairwell. They reached the third floor in no time, purposefully walking straight towards classroom I-A. Inside the other classrooms they passed, students were murmuring and craning their necks to see them through the corridor windows.

They stopped short in front of their destination classroom's front door and knocked three times, before sliding the door open and bowing respectfully.

"Excuse us," both of them said simultaneously, silencing the class and the teacher effectively.

"Ahh, Tezuka-kun and Fuji-kun, ne?" the teacher nodded. "It's alright, there's no need to bow. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"We would like to excuse Echizen-kun from the rest of the morning classes, sensei," Fuji explained, handing over the principal's note. Near the back of the class, Horio kicked Echizen's foot under the seat, startling the dozing boy awake.

"Itai!" he hissed, leaning down and nursing his foot. Then he looked back up, startled to find his senpais in front of the class. "Ah… it's time?"

"Aa," nodded Tezuka. The teacher handed back the note and nodded in confirmation.

"I've heard of this," Asou-sensei nodded. The good teacher was young and only in his thirties, but was really smart and famous among the other schools for his scientific researches. "I wish you good luck with this issue. I'm rooting for you guys."

Fuji smiled. "Ah, arigatou."

"Saa, Echizen-kun, your teammates are calling for you," smiled Asou-sensei.

"Hai," nodded Ryoma, rising out of his seat and walking off towards Fuji, who immediately slung a brotherly arm around Ryoma and herded him out of the room. The three of them bowed once more and thanked the teacher, before closing the door.

As soon as they got out, Ryoma yawned widely, stretching his back languidly like a cat. "Horio just had to kick me that hard. And my sleep was sooo gooood…" he muttered, leaning against Fuji sleepily. Fuji chuckled and steered him towards the stairwell.

"Well, you'd better wake up. The show's starting."

"Mmm, wake me up when we're there," murmured Ryoma, burrowing his face into Fuji's side. He could smell the strong scent of juniper and a whiff of a cool and crisp scent like fresh autumn air.

Fuji laughed as they descended the stairs. "Hey, that tickles you know. Wake up, Ryoma, we've got work to do," coaxed Fuji, ignoring a chuckling Tezuka as the tensai struggled to wake up the freshman. "Come on, big baby, wake up…"

"Wake up, Ryoma," Tezuka chuckled, coaxing the younger boy as they reached the second floor, just in time for the others to see them. "Come on," Tezuka muttered, pulling Ryoma off Fuji gently and supporting the boy. "Wake up."

"Demo, buchou…" whined Ryoma, this time snuggling up to Tezuka's chest. Lavender, fresh grass, old paper, and autumn, Ryoma smelt.

"Ochibi-chan?" Eiji called, seeing the boy drowsing in Tezuka's arms. "What's wrong with him?"

"Sleepy," Fuji replied.

"Sou kai?" chuckled Momoshiro. "Well, this will wake him up!"

The said power player unceremoniously pulled Ryoma out of Tezuka's arms and hauled the boy over his shoulder like a sack.

"O-Oi, Momo-senpai!" shrieked Ryoma.

"Ssshh, Ryoma, you're too loud!" hissed Oishi, ushering them out of the building hurriedly to avoid more commotion.

"B-But—"

"Unless you wake up, you're not getting down," Momo declared, descending the stairwell swiftly like he was simply carrying a mere backpack and not Ryoma. Eiji giggled madly as they hurriedly descended the stairs after Momoshiro smartly took the east exit instead of the main one to avoid commotion. Once they got outside, Momoshiro dumped Ryoma unceremoniously on the ground. "Awake yet?"

Ryoma grumbled, pouting as he stood up, dusted himself off and stomped his way moodily towards the faculty building. The others chuckled at the childishness Ryoma portrayed when his sleep was disturbed.

"Wait up, ochibi-chaaaan!!" Eiji called, rushing forward and reappearing on both sides of Ryoma. _Two_ Eijis.

"Ne, Kikumaru-senpai, you're really eager to use your techniques again, aren't you?" smirked Ryoma. "Seems you still retained your speed for your Seal Step (3)."

"Of course!" grinned both Eijis, holding up V-signs. "Buii!"

"Eiji, keep it down, we're here," Oishi admonished, receiving a "hai, hai" from both Eijis, before the two melded into one once again. They gathered around in the lobby of the faculty building.

"Everything has been prepared, right, Ryoma?" Tezuka started, voice leveling down to the calm coolness he always displayed during briefings. It was five minutes to ten. Just in time.

"Hai."

"Fuji, you know what you're going to say if they ask questions, right?"

"Aa."

"Right. Let's do this," Tezuka nodded.

"Ou!" came the collective reply, as if this was a team battle (which it was).

The team walked into the conference room confidently, with heads held high. All eyes turned towards them. As promised, the whole council was present, as well as the PTA representatives. There was one very long table, and one side was vacant for the nine of them. The other side was completely occupied by the representatives and council members, and behind them were the current tennis club members glaring daggers at them. Ryuzaki-sensei was sitting near the end smiling at them. At the head of the table was Kurenai-kochou.

"Ah, just in time," Kurenai-kochou nodded to them silently. "Take your seats."

The whole team bowed in unison, before taking their seats.

"Saa, let's not waste time, and get to the point, shall we?" Kurenai-kochou started, turning in her seat and placing her hands on the table firmly over several documents and papers. "As everyone in this room except the current tennis team members know, this meeting was called on because of these young lads' intentions to form their own separate tennis club in the school."

At the mention of the topic, the current varsity members raised their voices in anticipated protest.

"That's unacceptable!"

"Yeah, there can't be two varsities!"

"And the interschool sports competition law states that there can only be _one_ representing team for each school!"

The council members and the principal kept silent, looking expectantly at the other party to speak up.

"Maa, we never really said there would be two _varsities_ (4)," Fuji chuckled, lacing his fingers together as he leaned back in his seat, turning the swiveling chair slightly side to side. Ryoma faintly thought that Fuji would be perfectly suited as a businessman, what with that all-win and no-lose attitude he had, as well as the somehow intimidating friendliness he exuded. "We just said two_ teams_. And it's true that the law states that only _one_ team can go, but it doesn't state _which_ one."

There was silence after Fuji's statement. It made absolute sense, and that sense rang throughout the room, silencing everyone effectively.

"Was that a challenge?" Akita, the team captain asked, emerging from the half-shadow and speaking for the first time. His eyes burned a glare directly towards Tezuka, who had his eyes closed the entire time.

Tezuka opened his eyes. "Take it however you like."

"Nya, we weren't the ones who had problems with existing peacefully anyways," Eiji pouted, cupping his chin with his hands as he leaned his elbows on the table and sat on his chair Indian style. "We really have no problem to go side by side peacefully—we never _did_; but if you want a challenge, we're not backing down either."

"We can't say no to a challenge, no, we can't," Momoshiro remarked, shaking his head as he closed his eyes thoughtfully. "Na, mamushi?"

"Fsssshhh, got that right," nodded Kaidoh.

Some of the council members who were notably the parents of the current varsity team scowled. Apparently, the council was biased. Some of the tennis team's members were their _sons_, after all. Some of the others, though, were nodding thoughtfully, as if reconsidering the thought.

The PTA president, a refined middle-aged man, raised a question. "Why the sudden decision, then?"

There was silence for a while as Tezuka and Fuji looked at each other. Tezuka sighed. "Ever since middle school, our life revolved around tennis. We love playing tennis, and we consider it seriously," Tezuka started. "But last year's issue threw a wrench into our plans to reunite and bring the school once again to the Nationals."

"That's exactly what we plan to do," Fuji continued. "We can reach the Nationals with our talent, and we know it. We're not giving up on our dreams anytime soon. We just took a little bit of time to realize that there's no point in giving up now. What the current team isn't doing, we will."

Inui adjusted his glasses over his nose. "You also want that, don't you? For this school to once again reach the Nationals level, that is. It will be an amazing increase boost for your enrollment rates, which have been dropping since five years ago. It will also increase the school's popularity and standards, and the financial income has a 78 percent chance of tripling itself by next year. Wouldn't it be wonderful for Seigaku Koto Gakkou to not only be popular in terms of academics, but also competitive within the sports field? This could be the start of a new boom in the school."

"And also, it's just simply because we want to play tennis again," Kawamura smiled.

"Indeed, your determination is remarkable," nodded one of the council members, one that was apparently standing neutral. "But even if we give you permission to form your _own_ club, you'll have a hard time. You'll need to gather members, gather funds, find a place to practice and find a new coach. And you won't be able to play in the Nationals anyways, since we already have a varsity. I really don't see the point."

This raised murmurs around the table.

"Saa, should I take over, then, Fuji-senpai?" yawned Ryoma from the end of the table, stretching languidly. He really didn't care if he appeared rude; _they_ were rude first.

"It's you again!!" exclaimed Yokubou.

"Oh, Yokubou-san," Ryoma blearily said. "Gomen, didn't see you there."

Yokubou growled and was about to retort, when Ryoma stood up, taking a brown envelope with him as he walked towards Fuji and stood between Tezuka and the tensai.

"For gathering members," Ryoma started, pulling out several pieces of paper from the brown envelope and laying it on the table. It was a paper with names and signatures of students. "We have currently gathered 163 students willing to join the new tennis club on their own accord."

"That is approximately 54 percent more than the varsity's current member count," added Inui.

There was a round of more murmuring at this as the papers of the signatures were passed around the table.

"For gathering funds," Ryoma continued. "I would assume that 430,000 yen is enough to fund one club, right?" he said, pulling out a Chase New York check from the envelope, with his name written in English, the amount in dollars and his signature on it. "I assure you that the check and the account are both authentic."

"4000 dollars (5)?!"

"Goodness, where did you get this kind of money?" Kurenai-kochou asked in shock, staring frozenly at the check before her.

The other council members stared at the check in complete and utter stilled shock. The current varsity members were open-mouthed in befuddlement.

"Mmm…" Ryoma contemplated. "How should I say this… eto… it's from my winnings. It's not even 3 percent of all my savings in the past two years. If I win the next Wimbledon and U.S. Open, then I'll quadruple my earnings, not counting all the commercial pays and promotional salaries and all that crap."

"Wi-Wimbledon?!" stuttered a member of the council, notably Takeda's father. They held the same hairstyle and facial features. "And U.S. Open?!"

"Aa, Ryoma, I forgot about that," nodded Ryuuzaki from the end of the table. "Congratulations on your last win against Federer. That was a _splendid_ match."

"Domo," Ryoma bowed slightly in respect to his previous coach.

"Ryoma?" repeated Yokubou's father. "Masaka… _the_ Echizen Ryoma?"

"The one and only," grinned Eiji. "Our ochibi!" he exclaimed, giggling. Then he muttered to the ever-silent sweat-dropping Oishi, "Was my rhyme good?"

"It was surprising though, how Yokubou and the others did not recognize him," Fuji chuckled. "I guess they just don't watch top pro tennis."

"You don't even need to watch the top pro, you know," Kawamura pointed out. "All you need to do is watch the primetime news."

"Sou da ne!" Eiji remarked, nodding.

"Maa, enough of me," sighed Ryoma. "About which team plays in the tournaments—"

"Of course it's us!" exclaimed Nori. "We're varsity!"

"…how rude," grumbled Ryoma. He just hated it when people interrupted him while he was speaking.

"Hn, ja, can you win?" Fuji asked, maintaining his smile but opening his eyes to reveal icy blue eyes, staring straight at Nori.

Eiji whispered to himself, "The secret weapon!"

"W-What?" stuttered Nori, wavering subconsciously under Fuji's steady steely gaze.

"Can you win?" repeated Fuji. "Can you win against Fudou Koto Gakkou? Against St. Peter's, against Akayama, against Midorigaoka and Hyotei and Rikkaidai? Can you? Can you win against Shitenhouji High at the Nationals? Can you win against all those teams we've beaten, all those teams that reunited this year to claim their revenge over the school who slaughtered them during middle school?"

There was silence.

"Rikkaidai Fuzokukoto's members this year are the same members we went against during middle school," Fuji continued. "Same goes with Hyotei Koto Gakkou. Fudou Koto Gakkou's captain this year as well as their aces are the same people we went against two years ago. St. Peter's has my brother in the tennis team as well as Kiyosumi Sengoku-san from Yamabuki Chuu. Akayama's players are from Rokkaku Chuu, and while they are not that intent on getting their revenge, they are quite eager to have matches against us."

"If you really want to compete, then prove to me that you can face Atobe-san and Sanada-san," Ryoma interjected. "Those two will be after Seigaku's neck, you know. After _my_ neck and Tezuka-buchou's neck, particularly, but the whole teams have had issues with each other previously, and most of them remain unfinished. Am I right, Kikumaru-senpai?"

"Sou, sou!" Eiji nodded eagerly. "I can't wait to _kick _Gakuto's ass again!"

"Eiji!" Oishi scolded. "Language!"

"Whaaat?!" Eiji pouted. "It's true! Don't you want to test our Synchro against them? And I _so_ want to use my Seal Step to seal Gakuto's mouth for good!"

Momoshiro suppressed a guffaw.

"Of course, I'm _sure_ the council isn't considering sending a team that _can't_ win to the tournaments, am I right?" Fuji continued, turning his eyes on the council members, who shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the onslaught of Fuji's penetrating gaze.

"O-Of course we won't," stuttered the PTA president.

"So?" Kurenai-kochou asked. "What do you guys have in mind, then?"

"A competition," Ryoma stated simply.

There was silence.

"A competition to decide which team goes to the tournaments. Standard tournament setting. 5 matches, standard rules. 6 games each match, standard scoring procedures. 2 doubles matches, 3 singles," Ryoma explained.

"That way, it will be fair," Tezuka sighed. "Fair to both teams, since both will be given a chance to compete. That way, if we proceed no further towards the Nationals and we finish here, we have no one else to blame but ourselves and nothing else t regret further on. This is our last year in high school after all."

"Sou," Oishi nodded. "Regret is the last thing we'd want to have."

Then there was silence.

"It's a good idea, no?" Ryuuzaki chuckled. "Leave it up to these guys to come up with something like that."

"I agree, it is," nodded Kurenai-kochou. More than half of the council started agreeing to the reasonable way to decide who goes to the Nationals. "It's settled, then. A new tennis club will be established with these nine students as the starting regular members, and a competition will be held ten days from now to decide which team will be varsity. None of the two teams will be permitted to wear the school jersey until it is decided. All jerseys will be withdrawn from the regulars of the current team."

"Oh, and one more thing," Ryoma interjected before the head teacher could continue, spreading the last few papers over the table. "If _anyone_ touches Taka-san's family business, then I will make sure that that person's family business falls as well. Major companies are one phone call away, and they are willing to withdraw funds to the companies Yokubou-san, Nori-san, Takeda-san, Akita-san, and Ruichi-san are managing," Ryoma said, regarding the fathers of the said students a level stares. "P&G, DoCoMo Group, Karuizawa Companies, Shiseido, Kobayashi Seiyaku, and Life Card are all willing to pull off funds from you. I've talked to them regarding this matter. The papers on the table make these clear."

"If it's money you're using to unsettle us, it won't work. I have connections, and I have money to back myself up. I can support Taka-san's business even if you try to sabotage it. I just wanted to make that clear," Ryoma finished with a clipped tone accompanied by a burning glare.

There was utter silence.

"Maa, it was pretty rotten of you guys to threaten Taka-san's business if we tried anything like this," Fuji added in an undertone, addressing the other team. He took in the surprised looks from the uninvolved people in the council. Now it was in plain daylight who was involved and who was not. "Anyhow, we'll be looking forward to the matches with you guys."

"That'll be all, then?" Ryoma muttered, turning towards Tezuka, who bowed thoughtfully.

"Did we forget anything?" Fuji asked.

"A coach," pointed out the PTA president. "You need a coach to function."

The team looked at each other. Oishi chuckled nervously. "Somehow, we forgot about this."

"Well, you'll have to find someone within today," Kurenai-kochou said, sighing as she swiveled her seat. "You can't have Ryuuzaki-sensei, since she's got her hands full with the sister middle school's team."

"I've got just the solution for that," smirked Ryoma. As he shuffled in his pockets for his phone, he added in an undertone, "You guys will probably hate me for this later, but this is the best idea I can come up with right now."

He pulled out his red cell phone, the metallic mini-tennis racket and mini-ball straps tinkling as they met lightly. He excused himself, walking promptly out the conference room door while pressing a speed dial on his cell phone and holding it to his ear. The people inside the room waited quite impatiently for five minutes, before Ryoma walked back in. "Yosh, he'll be here in five minutes tops."

"Eh? We've already got a coach?" Kawamura doubled back.

Ryoma nodded in affirmation.

"Who…?"

"You'll see."

"Nya-hoi, Fuji! 1000 yen I'm betting it's a woman!" (Fuji remarked that Eiji was clearly not listening to Ryoma, and had just thrown away a thousand yen.)

"1000 yen on a man," Inui added, shifting his glasses higher up his nose as he pored over his notebook.

"1000 yen that it's someone we don't know!" Momoshiro added.

"Ja…" Fuji contemplated. "…1000 yen that it's Ryoma's dad."

"Eh?!?" came a collective exclamation.

Just then, the conference room door burst open.

Fuji grinned. "You three owe me 1000 yen each."

"Ou, seishounen!" panted a heaving Echizen Nanjiroh, still clutching his little red bicycle. "I came up to the agreement, so don't you dare tell Rinko-chan where I hid the special edition!"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

**(1) ****Ittekimasu** – Translates to "I'll be going/leaving!"; a phrase that is customarily said before leaving home.  
**(2) ****Kurenai-kochou** – "-kochou" is a suffix added to the name of a principal, much like how "-sensei" or "-chan" or "-senpai" works.  
**(3) ****Seal Step – **It's Eiji's technique where there appears to be _two_ Eijis instead of one. He does it using ultra high-speed steps he call 'seal steps'.  
**(4) ****Varsity – **The difference between a varsity team and _just_ a team is that the varsities are formally recognized as the official teams and are the ones who compete in interschool tournaments. It is "the leading sports team in an educational function", according to Wiktionary.  
**(5) **A dollar is approximately around 100 yen. It's not exact, but I was too lazy to do the math, so I simply approximated.

Huwahaahhaahahaha!!

I am _evil_.

PLEASE DO REVIEW!

**Kiasidira**** Ixari**  
_First Publication Version: 11.25.06  
First Revision Version: 08.11.07_


	7. Step Seven: The New Coach

**One Step  
**Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

Oiya, people! I have nothing much to say today. I just finished scanning and skimming through Chapter 16 of my Biology book, and my head is swimming with how DNA polymerases, DNA ligases and RNA primases manage to duplicate DNA in a matter of a millisecond. Oh well. I just needed to run through things and make sure I understood them since I was absent Wednesday…

Anyways, back to the topic. I just finished writing chapter six before I read through my Biology book, and I bet people are face-faulting.

Or not.

Hehehe, I don't know, I haven't posted it up yet since being an arse. If this keeps going, I won't be able to post it until tomorrow, so you guys will have to wait.

So, while waiting for to get itself together and work again, I simply decided to be a nice author and get started on the seventh one.

**News:** **I have decided on a pair. Look on to figure it out. It's near the end**. I am sorry for the people who did not want this, and I hope you will still continue to patronize my story. Thank you for your reconsideration and understanding.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies. In addition, I would like to say that I do not own Yonex or any of it's related subsidiaries mentioned in this chapter. I rightfully disclaim that I am merely using the public name.

**Warning(s):** **Heavy spoilers** for the manga and anime OVA ahead. You'll get explanation on the techniques that aren't shown in the anime if you haven't read the manga or watched the OVA yet, so no worries. If you want further explanation, go research on Wikipedia or some fansite. I'm pretty sure they have it there. Better yet, watch the OVA and read the manga.

* * *

**Step Seven: The New Coach

* * *

**

There was absolute silence.

"Baka oyaji, don't shout, we're _not_ at home!" admonished Ryoma.

"Promise me you're not going to tell your mother where I hid the special edition first."

"Oyaji—"

"Promise me!" whined Nanjiroh pitifully. Eiji and Momoshiro looked at each other, both surprised at Ryoma's second idea. They knew the brat had a creative head over those shoulders, but they didn't know what to make of this new development.

Ryoma sighed in exasperation, holding his forehead in his palm. "Did I make a mistake by calling him here?" he mumbled to himself, before turning to the elder man. "Alright, alright, I _promise_, now behave and _sit down_!"

"Ou!" Nanjiroh rebounded, sinking comfortably into what was previously Ryoma's seat. "You were saying something about being a coach?"

"Aa," nodded Ryoma. Then he turned towards Kurenai-kochou. "This is my dad. He'll be our new coach."

"Your… dad?" Kurenai-kochou repeated.

"Hai, hai," nodded Nanjiroh. "No matter how impossibly different we might seem, this little guy here is my son. I'm Echizen Nanjiroh, by the way."

"Ah… hai…"

"Matte!" Yokubou protested, startling Nanjiroh. "How can an unqualified monk be a tennis coach?! I bet this guy can't even hit a ball for his life! You can't just call your dad and make him coach!"

This accusation raised murmurs once again. The team remained silent and let the events flow, keeping in mind that there was no other choice but to accept. Otherwise, the council would cancel.

"Aaah, you said the wrong thing," Ryoma clucked, sighing.

"Huh?"

"Oi, kozou!" Nanjiroh snapped, glaring hotly at Yokubou. "Be careful with your words! It'll be an eternity before you can have the right to call me unqualified!"

"_Nani?!_ Why you old man—"

Fuji erupted in laughter, silencing everyone in the room. Momoshiro erupted into fits of snickers and giggles along with Yokubou, while Inui smirked. Oishi simply sighed and Kawamura shook his head. Tezuka remained impassive.

"Maa, it seems Yokubou-san here doesn't know a tad bit about top pro tennis, ne?" Fuji chuckled as his laughter died down slowly.

Eiji giggled and nodded. "He doesn't even know who Echizen Nanjiroh is!"

"Maa, don't blame the kid, it's been a long time," Nanjiroh shrugged. "Anyhow, I'm accepting the responsibility of being the coach if the council will approve."

"Well, this is certainly a surprise, Nanjiroh," Ryuuzaki Sumire chuckled. "I wonder what kind of persuasion Ryoma did to make you concede like this."

Nanjiroh grinned. "It's nothing, old hag. I just want to look over these kids. You were the one who said they had talent, right?" Nanjiroh quipped. "Also, since Ryoma-chan's been kind enough to promise me a one-year subscription of the special edition, I'll do as he says and be the coach!" he added under his breath, giggling in victory.

"I knew it, there _had_ to be a catch," sighed Sumire. "Anyhow, I approve of Nanjiroh. He was my student back in the earlier years, and I know he's responsible enough to handle the kids even if he's a humongous lump of idiocy."

"That's harsh, woman!"

"It's true, now shut up."

Nanjiroh simply grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting childishly.

* * *

Ryoma hummed silently to himself, stepping out into the brilliant midday sunlight as they exited the faculty building after the council meeting. Everything went smoothly according to his plans. Well, except for the coach part, but still, everything was going fine and underway. The other team was sanctioned for using family connections to threaten fellow students, and it was going perfect for them, since more than half the council was siding for them.

"Ya-hoiiiiiii!!!" Eiji screamed out loud for the entire world to hear, startling several students lounging by for lunch. Time had gone so fast; they did not notice it was already lunchtime. "Successsssssssss!!!"

"Yoshya! High five, Eiji-senpai!" Momoshiro cheered, exchanging several high fives with Eiji, who was bouncing around the place hyperactively even though he did not receive one dose of sugar this morning.

The cheerfulness was contagious; even Tezuka was smiling, even if it was ever so slight. It was by far noticeable compared to his other smiles. Fuji smiled serenely.

"Eiji, Inui, Momo, you three owe me a thousand yen apiece, ok?" Fuji confirmed, smirking in victory. Chibi Inner-Fuji held up a V-sign and cackled madly.

"Hidoiii!!!!" whined Eiji, stopping short from his celebration. "How did you know it was Ryoma's dad?"

_(t/r: Hidoi means cruel/horrible.)_

"Maa, I just guessed. It was luck."

"Luck, my ass," Momoshiro grumbled in an undertone, sending dark, fleeting glances towards Fuji. "I know better than to believe that, Fuji-senpai."

Nanjiroh stretched, stopping short beside one sakura tree before placing a hand over Ryoma's head, much to the said boy's annoyance. "Seishounen-tachi, before anything else, we need to have a _talk_," Nanjiroh pointed out. "How about talking over lunch?"

"Ah, hai," nodded Oishi. "Someone go buy food from the cafeteria."

"Ehh?! No way, that'll take too long, there are _lots_ of people in there, if you haven't noticed, Oishi-senpai," whined Momoshiro.

"There's nowhere else we can get food from, Momo," reasoned Oishi.

"B-But…"

"If I remember correctly, Nanako-chan was offering to prepare lunch for you guys," Nanjiroh said contemplatively. "She was saying something about a reunion lunch for you guys. Want me to call her and tell her it's okay to deliver?"

"Yeah!" came the collective, eager replies.

"Ou!" Nanjiroh nodded determinedly, punching a fist into the air, before Ryoma kicked him none-too-gently.

"Hurry up and call her, baka oyaji," Ryoma barked.

"Hai, hai, stingy gaki," grumbled Nanjiroh, pulling out a black cell phone entirely different from Ryoma's red one. "Moshi moshi, Nanako-chan? Ryoma-chan said it's okay to deliver the lunch you prepared!"

Eiji and Momoshiro giggled at Nanjiroh's antics, while Ryoma was grumbling a colorful string of curses under his breath. Inui was scribbling away in his notebook, apparently starting a new section for Echizen Nanjiroh and his data. Oishi sighed in exasperation, and Kawamura sweat dropped. Fuji simply chucked and Tezuka remained impassive.

They settled under a sakura tree, Nanjiroh still finishing the last bits of his conversation on the phone before saying goodbye.

"Saa. Where to start?" Nanjiroh gaily started, pushing the cell phone back into some pocket in his monk robes. "Ahh, sou. First off, who came up with the idea of making me coach?"

"Eto… Ryoma did," Momoshiro answered.

At this, Nanjiroh turned a piercing stare at Ryoma.

"Nothing else seemed plausible," shrugged Ryoma. "Besides, it's not like it won't be fun for you anyways. I mean, you'll be able to play tennis everyday with different opponents, ne?"

"Maa ne," Nanjiroh shrugged, relenting. "Alright. Fine, I'll be your new coach."

"Yosh!!" Eiji cheered. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!"

_(t/r: Yoroshiku onegaishimasu is a formal expression meaning 'looking forward to working with you'.)_

Tezuka bowed respectfully. "From now own, we're in your hands. Please take care of us."

Nanjiroh nodded. "There's no need to be so formal," he snorted. "Hey, Ryoma, how come the kid captain doesn't rub off on you? Get a load of his manners, seishounen!"

"Shut up."

"Stingy brat," grumbled Nanjiroh, making Fuji chuckle in amusement. They were really an amazing father and son; almost totally alike! Nanjiroh turned back again. "Anyhow, I don't do good with formalities and all that crap, so there's no need for the greetings and all. But I want you guys to remember that while we may be equally standing friends outside the courts, we are _coach_ and _player_ _on_ the courts."

"Hai," came the collective reply.

"Good, just wanted to get that out of the way. Don't want you getting familiar and all," nodded Nanjiroh. "About me… well, you'll learn more about me as we go by. And I'm not a lax coach. Don't think that I'd go easy on you guys since Ryoma is here. Nope, that's even _more_ reason for me to go _harder_ on you. Expect and prepare for the worst. I swear you'll experience _hell_."

"Hai!" came another collective reply, determination burning in nine pairs of eyes.

Then Nanjiroh grinned. "Good, good! Anyhow, you can call me whatever you want. I don't really care, and it doesn't really matter."

"We'll be counting on you, then, Nanjiroh-sensei!" Momoshiro exclaimed.

"Ou, ou, Nanjiroh-sensei, nya!" Eiji followed up, punching his arms into the air and laughing in pure glee until he collapsed into a chuckling Oishi.

Nanjiroh sweat dropped. "Is he always like that?"

Fuji nodded in affirmation. "You haven't seen the worst yet. You should see him sugar high."

"I don't even want to think about it," mumbled Nanjiroh, suppressing an internal shiver. Then he cleared his throat, catching the others' attention. "Anyhow, let's start with the introductions, then. Tell me your name, likes and dislikes, hobbies, your short term goal, and your long term goal."

"Why don't we start with you, then, Nanjiroh-sensei?" Inui suggested, his pen already poised over his notebook.

Nanjiroh raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Alright. Echizen Nanjiroh. Likes… eto, girls, porn magazines, and above all, tennis. Dislikes… Karupin's claws and that old hag. Hobbies… playing tennis, reading porn, and above all, annoying Ryoma," he ticked off, making the said boy scowl deeply, much to his teammates amusement. "Short term goal… to bring this team to the top of Japan. Long term goal… to bring Ryoma to his ultimate potential until he can beat me. That's about it."

There was silence for a while.

"Oooo, ochibi-chan is so lucky!" teased Eiji, only to face a hissing Ryoma.

"Right, who goes next?" Oishi asked.

"I'll go, I'll go!" Eiji volunteered, bouncing on his spot. "Kikumaru Eiji! I like ALL flavors of toothpaste, teddy bears, tennis and Oishi!" At this, Momoshiro and Ryoma jeered at a blushing Oishi. "I don't like wasabi, Inui Juice and _Marui Bunta_! My hobbies are playing tennis with Oishi, brushing my teeth, and eating ice cream! My short term goal is to become the best doubles pair with Oishi in Japan! And my long term goal would be to be able to go to the pro circuit and play doubles with Oishi!"

"Are you two on?" Nanjiroh innocently asked out of the blue, holding a blank expression that was impossible to pin with an accusatory gaze.

Momoshiro and Ryoma burst out laughing as Oishi and Eiji both turned beet red. "Eiji-senpai looks like a carrot with red leaves!"

"Mou, Momo, urusai yo!"

"Saa, I'll go next then," Momoshiro grinned. "Momoshiro Takeshi. I like… eto, burgers and tennis!"

"You forgot Ann-chan."

"And Ann-cha—oi, Ryoma, shut up!" Momoshiro added without thinking, only to catch himself in mid-phrase. "Anyways, I don't like Inui Juice, mamushi, wasabi and people interrupting my burger meals! My short term goal is to become stronger and be able to fight in the National level and win, and my long term goal would be to reach the pro circuit."

"Sou ka, a burger buddy, huh," Nanjiroh nodded. "We'll get along, spikey boy! Next!"

"Taka-san goes next!" Eiji randomly pointed.

"Eh? Me? Eto… Kawamura Takeshi… I like tennis and sushi. I don't like… well, I don't like too much wasabi in sushi, I don't like Inui Juice too. My hobbies… eto, making sushi with my dad, playing tennis with my teammates. My short term goal would be to do my best to help this team be the Nationals champion again, and my long term goal would be to become the best sushi maker in Japan."

"As expected of Taka-san, ne…" Eiji nodded thoughtfully. "Really serious about the sushi! Don't worry, Taka-san, for me, you're the best sushi cook in the world _ever!_"

"Aa, arigato, Eiji."

Eiji grinned, making a V-sign towards Kawamura.

"Ja, next would be Oishi!" Eiji randomly decided again.

"Ah," Oishi chuckled, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Oishi Syuuichiro. I like tennis, my friends and… well, Eiji," he said, blushing to the roots of his hair as everyone in the vicinity snickered except for Fuji, Tezuka and Eiji. "I don't like Inui Juice… and, well, my hobbies are playing tennis with Eiji and spending time with family and friends."

"And worrying over other people," Ryoma muttered in an undertone.

"My short term goal is the same, to make this team reach the top. And the long term goal would be to pursue a professional doubles career with Eiji."

"How sweeeeeet!" cooed Momoshiro and Fuji, giggling like schoolgirls. "They're all lovey dovey!"

"M-Mou, urusai yo!"

Momoshiro continued giggling. "Ja, Inui-senpai is next."

Inui shifted his glasses. "Sadaharu Inui. I like juice, tennis and data. I don't like unknowns, unanswerable mysteries and jumbled data, as well as failed experiments. My hobbies are researching, solving problems and mysteries, experimenting and making Inui Juice, and playing tennis. My short term goal is to help this team reach the Nationals, and my long term goal would either be a future as a tennis private instructor-trainor, or a professional player."

"Perfect, perfect, we have a data man who can do all the paperwork for us," nodded Najiroh. "Next!"

"Kaidoh next," huffed Eiji moodily.

"Fsssh… Kaidoh Kaoru. I like tennis, fssssh. I don't like the peach bum over there," he hissed, earning a curse from Momoshiro. "My hobbies are training and playing tennis. My short term goal is to reach the top with the team, and my long term goal is to enter and play in the pro circuit."

"Seems like you guys have the same long term goals except for Taka-san, ne?" nodded Nanjiroh. "If you do good, it'll be easy to get into the pro circuits. Next!"

"Ochibi-chan, your turn!" Eiji grinned, back to his happy mode.

"Me?" Ryoma doubled back.

"Yes, you!"

Ryoma sighed. "Echizen Ryoma. I like Karupin, Ponta, tennis and sleeping. I don't like Inui Juice, my dad's stupidity, English-style breakfast, wasabi and _fans_. I _hate_ fans. My hobbies are playing tennis, drinking Ponta, playing with Karupin and sleeping. My short term goal would be to win the Nationals and win the upcoming Tennis Masters Cup, and my long term goal would be to claim as much Grand Slams as I can, win the Tennis Masters Cup as much as I can, and to surpass my dad."

"Upcoming Tennis Masters Cup? You're joining?"

"Of course he is," Fuji sighed. "He's in the top eight players in the world after all, ne?"

Ryoma nodded.

"Sou ka…" nodded Eiji thoughtfully. "Sou da ne…"

"I already knew that, though," Nanjiroh muttered.

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I had to. No favoritisms, remember?"

Ryoma glared.

"Next!"

"Ja, I'll go next then," Fuji smiled. "Syuusuke Fuji. I like wasabi sushi—"

"You _like_ wasabi?!?!" Nanjiroh exploded.

"—aa, wasabi sushi is good. I also like curry—"

"You _like curry?!?!_"

"—aa, curry is nice to my taste buds. I also like Inui Juice—"

"Fuji-senpai, how do you _ever_ do that?"

"—and tennis. I also like Yuuta and Ryoma," he smiled, mussing Ryoma's hair again and receiving a nice purr from the younger cat-like boy. "I don't like Mizuki Hajime. My hobbies are eating wasabi sushi, playing tennis, taking care of Ryoma and/or Yuuta, and tormenting people."

There were collective shivers.

"My short term goal would be to do the best I can to reach the Nationals and win, and the long term would be to play in the professional circuits to see if I am worthy to be really called a _tensai_."

Nanjiroh nodded thoughtfully. "Tensai Fuji Syuusuke," he repeated, nodding again. "So? Last one's kid captain."

"Tezuka Kunimitsu. I like books and tennis. I don't like…"

"Don't like what? Tell me you don't have anything you don't like," Ryoma pushed.

"…hmm… I don't like Atobe Keigo's arrogance."

"We feel you, buchou," Momoshiro saluted.

"My hobbies are reading, tennis and chess… my short term ambition is to lead the way for the team to reach the Nationals and win. My long term goal would be…"

"Would be?" Ryoma and Fuji eagerly leaned in.

"…would be…"

"Would _be_?!" Eiji and Momoshiro excitedly persisted.

"…to reach the professional circuit and play."

"Ryoma and I win," Fuji smiled. Ryoma smirked. Chibi Inner-Eiji and Chibi Inner-Momo wailed while slapping several yen bills into a cackling Chibi Inner-Fuji and a smirking Chibi Inner-Ryoma's awaiting hands.

"And, pray tell, when did you place these bets?" Oishi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Back in the conference rooms when we lagged back," Eiji pouted. "We knew there was going to be an introduction portion like this. Well, Fuji knew, anyways. He told us."

"Ne, Fuji-senpai, can you read minds?" Momoshiro asked out of the blue.

"Eh?"

"Minna-san!" came a light, feminine voice. Nanako came slightly jogging from the front gates, carrying two large bentos on both hands.

"Hua, sugoi, she's strong!" Eiji gaped.

Kawamura, being the natural gentleman he was, immediately stood up and walked over, taking the two bentos with ease. Nanako bowed and thanked Kawamura, while the said player simply smiled and waved it off. After all, carrying these things was Kawamura's everyday job, and with those muscles of his, it was nothing.

Kawamura set down the bentos on the ground, making sure Eiji and Momoshiro were both held down properly first. Nanako walked over, slightly panting.

"Konnichiwa," bowed Nanako, smiling.

"Konnichiwa, Nanako-san!" grinned Momoshiro. "Arigato na, cooking all these for us."

"Iie, iie, it's alright," Nanako replied, still smiling as he bent down to prepare the food.

"Ii no yo," Kawamura said. "I'll take care of the food. You must be tired from walking all that way in this heat."

"A-Aa, is it really okay?" Nanako hesitated.

"Daijoubu, Nanako-san," Fuji smiled reassuringly. "Taka-san's family manages a sushi restaurant, so I assure you, he can handle it just fine."

"Sou, sou, Nanako-san should rest!" nodded Eiji, grinning mischievously. "Leave the eating to us!"

"Exactly!" Momoshiro eagerly agreed, his eyes trailing the food Kawamura was preparing on the picnic cloth. "Not yet finished, Taka-san?"

"Ah, Momo, don't be impatient with the food preparations," admonished Kawamura, rolling up his sleeves and laying the bentos one by one on the ground from their stacks. "This'll be finished in no time, don't worry."

"Excellent, we've got our own food manager too," hummed Nanjiroh. "Excellent team."

Ryoma sweat dropped. "Is that really why we're called an excellent team?"

Nanjiroh ignored Ryoma's comment and poked one meat ball from the bento nearest him using a chopstick Nanako handed him. "So basically, we have to find a place to practice, right? The courts will only be ours after we win, right?"

The others nodded.

"The place is no problem. We can always use the two courts in the temple grounds," Nanjiroh thought out loud. "I heard you gathered quite a bunch who are all willing to participate in your club, but it would be better to invite them only after we've confirmed that we're varsity."

Tezuka nodded. "I'll be sure to notify them."

"Hmmm… apart from that, I don't really think there's anything else to worry about," Nanjiroh muttered thoughtfully, running through things inside his head. "Yeah, nothing else. Well, since all's settled, I want all of you at the temple grounds this afternoon by 4:30. We're gonna be running late tonight, so make sure you notify your parents or whoever you're living with. Bring complete gear and a complete change of clothes, because I can't guarantee you'll be leaving unscratched and unsoiled."

"We're starting right away?" Kaidoh asked. "Fssssh…"

"Excellent!" Momoshiro cheered with Eiji. "We'll be there! No problems with the time!"

"Demo, what will we be doing tonight?" Taka-san asked thoughtfully.

"Sou da… what will we be doing?" asked Ryoma, muching on his riceball.

"Well, you'll find out," Nanjiroh shrugged. Then he turned to Ryoma with a mischievous smirk. "Ne, Ryoma-chaaaan, can you get me the latest release of Playboy todaaaaay?" Nanjiroh wheedled.

Ryoma sighed in exasperation. "Fine," he muttered, pulling out his wallet and handing his dad some bills. "That's enough for one release, right?"

"Ou! Yatta! New release todaaaaaaaaay!" cheered Nanjiroh, dissolving into a fit of ecstatic giggles.

Massive sweat drops collectively appeared. Their coach was truly impressive in the sense that he could change from a serious countenance into a giggling pervert in a matter of seconds.

* * *

The whole team chattered as they walked towards Ryoma's house briskly, warming up their bodies in the process. As they reached the front gates of the Echizen household, a white blur darted forth and jumped into Ryoma's arms.

"Karupin!" Ryoma exclaimed, startled as he struggled to hold the cat steady in his arms. The cat mewled and purred as it rubbed against its master's chest affectionately. Ryoma chuckled, scratching the cat behind the ears, catching that one spot that made the cat purr ever so loudly, that spot that only _he_ knew about.

"What a spoiled cat," remarked Fuji, petting its head. "Just like our baby boy, ne?"

"Sou, sou," nodded Eiji, grinning happily. "That must be why they're so in sync! They're so alike!"

"Then explain to my why you and Oishi-senpai are always in sync, Eiji-senpai," Momoshiro teased, grinning mischievously. "You're not all that alike, after all."

Eiji blushed beet red again and Oishi stuttered. Ryoma failed to notice though, as he was too caught up with one of his only loves in this world: Karupin, the smart Himalayan cat.

"Ryoma-san!" called Nanako-san, emerging from the house holding an outdoor broom in her hands. "Ojii-sama told me to tell you guys to change first into your sports clothes before going up to the temples."

"Ah, hai," nodded Ryoma silently, cradling his precious cat in his arms as they proceeded into the house, leaving their tennis bags on the floor near the entrance as they all trooped upstairs, carrying their own change of clothes.

"Oishi and I get the bathroom!" Eiji announced, making Oishi blush as he was pulled into the second floor bathroom.

"Hn, ja, you guys can change in that room," Ryoma decided, pointing towards a room across his. "It's vacant, a guest room. I'll go change in _my_ room. No one allowed."

"Ara? Are you a girl, Ryoma?" teased Fuji.

"Shut it, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma hissed. "It's not about me, it's about my room. I don't want any of you into my private space, see."

"Ooooh, he's hiding something!" Momoshiro snickered. "I want to seeeee…"

"Hurry up and change, my dad's not a patient man," grumbled Ryoma, slamming the door shut, the lock clicking into place.

"What a stingy brat," snorted Momoshiro, shaking his head. "'Taku, he needs to work on his social skills if he wants a girlfriend."

"I'm inclined to believe that he doesn't," Inui remarked as they all waltzed into the spacious guest room and shut the door behind them.

After ten minutes, all of them emerged out of the rooms and converged into the corridor at the same time.

"Hua, bikkurishita!" Eiji gasped, clutching at his heart in surprise. "I'll get a heart attack if you guys keep on doing that!"

"Ahahah, gomen," Momoshiro sheepishly chuckled, clutching a bundle of clothes in his arms, recognizably his uniform. All of them were now in tennis attire.

"Not bad, Ryoma," Fuji snickered, sweeping Ryoma with his eyes from head to toe as the young man swaddled out of his room lazily, decked in signature Yonex shirt, Yonex shorts, Yonex cap and Yonex shoes.

"Stop checking me out, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma sighed, pulling his cap lower as he pushed his way through the crowd and descended the stairs, tailed by the others, who were once again chattering noisily.

They walked through the backyard and past Nanako, who smiled at them good-naturedly, before returning to her diligently managed task of pruning the flowers she bred. They walked up the steps towards the temple at the top of the hill, where the tennis courts were located and where their coach was waiting for them.

As they rounded the corner, Nanjiroh snapped in exasperation. "How _long_ did it take you guys to _change_?"

Ryoma sighed. "I _told_ you he isn't a patient man."

"Anyhow," Nanijroh shrugged, dropping his new Playboy release beside the water bottles on the bench. "Everything here is prepared, so I don't want to hear a single complaint from you guys."

"Hai."

"Sore ja," Nanjiroh sighed, picking his racket up and removing his wooden monk slippers. "This afternoon, each one of you will have a three-set match with me."

"Three-set match?"

"Every single one of us, nya?"

"Aa," nodded Nanjiroh.

"Sou ka. This is for evaluation, am I correct?" Inui suggested, pushing his glasses up higher.

"Sono toori da," nodded Nanjiroh. "But before we begin, I'd like to set a suitable punishment for the losers."

_(t/r: Sono toori means "exactly" or "that's exactly it".)_

"Ah, I have an idea for that, Nanjiroh-sensei," Inui almost immediately responded.

Hearing this, everyone except Fuji and Tezuka broke out in loud protests.

"HOOOIII! NO WAY!"

"ZETTAI YADDA!" _(t/r: "No way in hell!" or "Never!") _

"INUI-SENPAI, HAVE MERCY ON US!"

"No way in hell I'm drinking Inui Juice again!"

"Inui, please stop with these juice attacks!"

"Do you really plan to kill us, senpai?!"

Curiosity piqued by the peculiar reaction to Inui's unspoken suggestion, Nanjiroh smirked evilly and leaned forward interestedly to Inui. "Care to share some knowledge, dataman?"

Inui smiled deviously and pulled out a pitcher of a reddish brown gooey, bubbling and fizzling substance. In the background, Eiji and Momoshiro screamed. "This is my newest version of Inui Juice, a chemical hotchpotch of Kiirozu, Akazu, Aozu and Penal Tea stabilized with a special ingredient I named it after. My newest concoction's name is Betelgeuse."

Something immediately clicked in Tezuka, Fuji and Ryoma's heads. Ryoma's eyes widened in realization. _Betelgeuse._ It was named after an ingredient, and the name was _Betelgeuse_. He shot towards Tezuka and hid behind him, clutching at his shirt desperately.

"Zettai yadda… zettai yadda!" Ryoma muttered, hiding behind his buchou. "Yadda. Not in an entire lifetime, no. I am _not_ going to drink that."

"It tastes good, Ryoma, I promise," Inui smiled, an evil glint in his eyes.

"Buchou…" whined Ryoma, clutching harder and pulling himself closer.

"Ne, matte, ochibi, why are you so afraid of the juice?" Eiji suddenly asked, escaping his acute schizophrenic mode for a moment. "You didn't hide before. You just made sure you weren't beaten."

"With my abilities right now, I'm pretty sure I won't beat oyaji," explained Ryoma. "And that thing is… is… **_beetle juice!_**" he exclaimed the last part in English.

"Huh?" Eiji repeated, befuddled. "Yeah, it's Betelgeuse. So?"

"No! It's **_beetle juice!_**" Ryoma insisted in exasperation, knowing that it was in vain. Betelgeuse and beetle juice sounded totally alike.

"I'm impressed, Ryoma," Inui smiled. "That was a fast deduction."

"Hidoi yo, Inui-senpai!" whined Ryoma.

"Da-ka-ra," Eiji insisted. "What are you saying, ochibi? You're not making sense!"

"It's better if you don't know, Eiji," Fuji chuckled. "Though I _am_ interested in it's taste."

"It's a little tangy this time, Fuji," Inui provided.

"Sou? Omoshiroi."

Momoshiro and Eiji looked at each other as Momoshiro scratched his head in confusion. "Is it really better if we don't know?"

"Trust me, it is," nodded Fuji. "Saa, are we going to use the juice as penalty, Nanjiroh-sensei? This way, all of us will surely drink."

Nanjiroh grinned and nodded. "Omoshiroi ze. I want to see your reactions."

"Oyajiiii!!!" whined Ryoma. "How can you do this to me?!"

"Oh come on, you'll survive, you're my little champion, aren't you?" Nanjiroh chuckled, ignoring the whining youngster. "Saa! Let's start this, shall we? Momo-chyan, you first!"

"Ah—hai!" Momo scrambled towards the court.

"Ah, matte, before we start," Nanjiroh paused. "Dataman!"

"Hai?" Inui answered.

"From today on, I want you to keep track of the progress of each regular player in this team. I want _no_ biases, are we clear on that?"

"Hai."

"Also, I will require you to take notes after each match today, and make sure you monitor improvements based on what I'm going to tell you about each player, ok?"

"Hai, wakarimashita."

_(t/r: Wakarimashita means "understood".)_

"Good. I guarantee all of you will lose tonight, but not in vain," nodded Nanjiroh, before tossing a ball towards Momoshiro. "Yosh, Momo-chyan, let's go!"

"Half-set match, Momo serve," Oishi announced, filling in as a substitute referee.

"Let's get this going!" Momoshiro exclaimed, leaning back, tossing the ball upwards and executing a perfect leap. Muscles in his arm flexed as he poured power into the serve, the ball whistling across the court at its top speed.

"Hora!" Nanjiroh volleyed back.

The match progressed quite quickly, pressure from Nanjiroh's side slowly pushing Momoshiro back. The first game ended to Momoshiro's favor, but he just barely managed to scrape it. Nanjiroh was no easy opponent.

"Yosh, good, good," nodded Nanjiroh. "You haven't been playing this seriously for quit some time now, eih?"

Momoshiro chuckled, wiping the edge of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Aa. No one's ever this good," he panted, returning to the receiving position.

The game continued, with continuously increasing pressure on Momoshiro from Nanjiroh's side. Early into the third game, Momoshiro was forced to use his Special Dunk Smash, practically drilling a hole into the ground with the force and spin. Nanjiroh whistled.

"One hell of a smash, that one," he said in awe, raising both eyebrows as he examined the 5-inch-deep hole the ball drilled. Literally. He nodded several more times, crouching down and looking intently at the spin patterns in the hole. "One hell of a spin too. Ne, dataman, can you give me the exact details of Momo-chyan's smash?"

Inui pulled his bag open and procured one green notebook from inside the bag, flipping it open to a certain page. "Super Great Momoshiro Special Dunk Smash. Top speed: 186 kph as of the most recent development. Spin speed: 195 kph as of most recent development. Maximum force: unknown. So far, Momoshiro has only used it on 70 percent of his maximum force, and it was clocked on 205 pounds. Almost as heavy as Taka-san's Hadoukyuu."

"Ooo, impressive," nodded Nanjiroh. "But you can do better than that, Momoshiri-kun."

"Oi! It's MomoshiRO!" frowned Momoshiro. _(t/r: Momoshiri means "peach butt".)_

"Anyhow, the game will stop here," Nanjiroh announced, jumping back up.

"E-Eh?!"

"I've finished my evaluation on you," Nanjiroh grinned. "It's all in _here_," he said, tapping his temple. "Don't worry, if you want a rematch, we can have it some other time. I just need to finish all evaluations tonight."

"B-But… what was all that pressure for, then?!"

"To evaluate how you would react under pressure, Momo," Fuji explained. "He was putting more and more pressure on you slowly, to see where you would finally give in and use your strongest technique. You were pretty good, though. You were using your Insight, right? That's why you were able to hold through Nanjiroh-sensei's changing play style."

"Aa."

"Eh, nani? Insight? Nani are?" Nanjiroh asked. "Dataman?"

"Insight. It's a special technique only Momo can use. It's a skill he unearthed during his mountain training with Taka-san prior to the Nationals two years ago. He can predict the ball direction and can adapt to the play style of his opponent by using this technique. By noting all subtle movements, all involuntary muscular action, eye movements, wind speed and direction, ball spin, ball impact zone, ball impact sound and everything else, he can predict the play of the opponent."

"Hua, sugoi!" Nanjiroh clapped. "Unique! We need to exploit that technique of yours, Momo-chyan! That's something special!"

"Ha—hai…"

"Yosh!" Nanjiroh shouted. "Neeeext!"

The next match was with Eiji. Unlike Momoshiro, the acrobatic player was eager to use his techniques and surprised Nanjiroh by stealing the first game using his Seal Step and playing two against one.

"Hora, nandayo!" Nanjiroh pouted. "What's this technique, dataman?"

"Eiji calls it Seal Step," Inui explained, shifting his glasses higher up his nose. "It's executed using super fast and flexible movements and it's a unique technique only used by Eiji. Because of lightning-quick steps, he is able to produce the visual and physical illusion of two Eijis playing on field when actually, there is only one. Both Eijis can hit the ball and both can act different from the other, and that is what gives the advantage, because it is not like a normal illusion where the both acts like each other. Each Eiji on field can be treated as an individual and acts as an individual."

"Hoooo!!" Nanjiroh cheered. "Awesome!"

Ryoma sweat dropped. "Stop acting like a kid, _Nanjiroh-sensei_."

"Hai, hai!" Nanjiroh laughed. "Anything else special about our acrobat?"

"His stamina outlasts most normal players. It was his most exploited weaknesses before he made a move to conquer it," Inui said.

"Right, good," Nanjiroh nodded. "We don't want you running out in the middle of a match because you move too much. Yosh, next!"

"Huaaaa???! But—but—"

"Don't _worry_, you'll get to play more later," consoled Nanjiroh.

"Hunyaaaaaa…" Eiji moped, slouching his way to the benches. "I didn't even finish the first game…"

"Cheer up, Eiji, we'll play later, ok?" Oishi amended, patting his doubles partner on the shoulder lightly, before the said player clutched tightly onto Oishi's arm.

"Ne, ne, Oishi, Nanjiroh-sensei's scary. He was putting so much pressure on me even if I was using my Seal Step!" Eiji hurriedly whispered into Oishi's ear.

"Ehe, eto, Eiji, that's only natural. He's a former pro after all," Oishi chuckled.

"Demo! Sugoi yo! Kowai mo…"

_(t/r: Demo—But; Sugoi—Amazing; Kowai—Scary.)_

"Hai, hai, wakatta, I get it…"

"Ja, I'll go next?" Kawamura suggested. Fuji handed him his racket. "**_BURNING!!! Come on, baby!_**"

"Alright," Nanjiroh nodded, whistling slightly as he walked back to the receiving position. The first half of the game went quite uneventful until Kawamura decided to surprise Nanjiroh and use his Dash Hadoukyuu out of the blue, knocking off Nanjiroh's racket and effectively ruining it.

"Hoo, itai!" Nanjiroh exclaimed, hopping around and holding his throbbing hand.

"Arara, gomen nasai, sensei!" Kawamura sheepishly apologized, running over to the net and letting go of his racket.

"What in the world was that?"

"Eto, that was my Dash Hadoukyuu."

"Dash Hadoukyuu? Dataman, explain!"

"Hai," Inui immediately complied. "Dash Hadoukyuu is a modified version of Hadoukyuu, where Taka-san charges his arm with energy and raises it up to 120 percent of his total arm strength, therefore releasing the ball with an inhuman amount of spin force and energy."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Nanjiroh asked.

"It is," Kawamura nodded. "I'm only allowed to use it on full force twice a game at most. If I use it double-handed, though, it will lessen the risk, but it will increase the difficulty to balance the strength use of both arms, and as such, I might miss the prime point of releasing the ball."

"Sou," Nanjiroh nodded. "Well, you take care of that technique and your arm. You're going to be the best sushi maker, right? Treasure your health. Yosh, next."

"Ah, hai, sensei. Arigato."

Kawamura walked of, flexing his arm slightly and trying his muscles. They were still twitching.

"Don't push it, Taka-chin," Nanjiroh admonished. "I'm glad we have a heavy hitter on the team, but we need to develop some way for you not to damage your arm even if you use your Hadoukyuu repeatedly. The problem with heavy hitters is that their techniques are a hazard not only to the opponent, but to themselves too. We'll come up with a way, don't worry."

"Hai," nodded Kawamura.

"Ne, Taka-san," Ryoma quipped suddenly. "How come you continued tennis? Didn't you tell us that you'll quit right after middle school?"

"Ah, that…" Kawamura chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "…yappari, I can't just drop tennis like that. I tried a bit during the summer before first year, but every time I was making sushi, I spaced out. I like making sushi, but I like playing tennis too. My dad often noticed this, so he told me to pursue tennis for high school and then just retire afterwards. He told me that I should make the best of the time when I can still play in competitions and stuff, because he was not going to let me space out while making our sushi. He also said that I had to promise to completely devote myself in sushi-making after high school, and so I just agreed. It was the best deal I could take after all."

"Sou…" nodded Ryoma.

"Oi, I said _next_!" Nanjiroh impatiently snapped, tapping his foot on the ground expectantly, a new racket in hand.

"Hoi!" Eiji saluted, pushing Oishi into the spotlight. "You go, aibou!"

The first half of the game was as uneventful as it was with Kawamura's game, but in the middle of the game, Oishi used his Moon Volley. Unfortunately for him, Nanjiroh was able to return the ball despite the fact that it landed behind him. As the game progressed, Oishi gradually lost 1 to 3. It was the first complete game of the night.

"Somebody turn on the lights!" Nanjiroh hummed, tossing a bottle of water towards Oishi, who caught it and thanked him. Ryoma walked over to the post nearby and flicked on the switch. The huge lights flickered to life, effectively illuminating the courts. "Next!"

"Saa, I'll go next, then," Fuji hummed, his eyes still closed as he proceeded towards the court.

"Aha! Tensai Fuji Syuusuke!" exclaimed Nanjiroh. "Make this good!"

"I'll do my best," Fuji chuckled. Fuji held the ball away from him, twisted it in his hand and served it underhand.

"Oho, cut serve, huh?" Nanjiroh grinned, running forward and hitting it over the net in a return volley.

"Hua! Fuji's skills hadn't waned at all, nya!" Eiji exclaimed. "He managed to move Nanjiroh-sensei in the beginning of the game!"

The game went on slowly, Fuji revealing his counters one by one. The first three were easily beaten by Nanjiroh.

"Let's see… you have eight counters(1) all in all, right?" Nanjiroh asked, smirking in satisfaction. This was what one can call a real gifted young man.

Fuji nodded in affirmation. "You've just seen and broken three of them: Tsubame Gaeshi, Higuma Otoshi and Hakugei."

"What are the other ones?"

"Kagerou Zutsumi(2), Houou Gaeshi(3), Kirin Otoshi(4), Hakuryuu(5) and my Hecatoncheires no Monban(6)," Fuji listed calmly as he waited for Nanjiroh's serve. It was the second game already and he didn't even notice. Time really flied when one's enjoying oneself.

"Oohh, you've got _lots_ up your sleeve, huh?" Nanjiroh smirked. "Seems you don't need any help making more techniques."

"Nope, I've got no problems in that area," Fuji smiled serenely. "Now, shall we?"

"You asked for it!" Nanjiroh exclaimed, executing a perfect Twist Serve, a serve that flitted past Fuji, making the tensai open and narrow his eyes. "Oiya, why didn't you return it?"

"Hayai!" Momoshiro exclaimed. "I didn't see it!"

"Nya, you should eat more carrots, Momo," Eiji blankly pointed out.

"I don't have your eyesight, Eiji-senpai," pouted Momo. "Anyhow, why was that ball so fast?"

"A perfect Twist Serve," Ryoma answered.

"Eh?"

"A perfect Twist Serve that is faster and stronger than mine," Ryoma said. "He was the one who taught me the Twist Serve's basics, but afterwards, he left me on my own to perfect it. He never uses it against me, though, so I can't figure out if mine was up to the standards already or not."

The game went on until Fuji lost 2 to 3, just barely. Fuji kept on fighting until the end, but Nanjiroh's experience pulled him through as the winner. Had the game gone farther, though, no one would know the results.

"Ahh, I lost," Fuji smiled.

"You didn't lose on purpose, did you, Fuji?!" Eiji exclaimed.

"Masaka! Did you lose just to drink the Inui Juice?!" Momoshiro shouted.

"Not this time," Fuji chuckled, walking over. "I was pushing, but Nanjiroh-sensei's really strong."

"You didn't even use _all_ of your counters," Kaidoh pointed out. "You only used the first five, fsshhhh…"

"Maa ne. If the game went further, I would still have lost, I know," Fuji shrugged, receiving a towel from Ryoma. "Arigato, Ryoma-chan," he smiled, mussing Ryoma's hair.

"_Don't_ call me Ryoma-_chan_!"

"Syuu-kun, keep up the good work!" Nanjiroh whistled, reaching for a bottle of water. "You actually pushed me back there. Don't worry, I'm going to introduce more ideas to you so you can make _more_ counters," grinned Nanjiroh. "In fact, I already have several ideas."

"Eh, honto?!" Eiji prodded, leaning closer. "Ne, ne, tell us!"

"Some other time, neko-chan," Nanjiroh chuckled, patting a pouting Eiji's head. "Right now, kid captain's up."

"Buchou, ganbatte," Ryoma bid, handing Tezuka his racket as the captain stood up. Tezuka nodded.

"Arigato."

"Heh—oi, seishounen, aren't you gonna wish me luck too?!"

Ryoma glared. "In your dreams, old man. Besides, you're my _coach_, remember? Of course I'm going to wish _my captain_ luck, not my _coach_."

"Hidoi!" Nanjiroh cried, feinting hurt.

"Shut up and get on the court," Ryoma snapped, pushing Nanjiroh.

"Oi, is that the way to treat your coach?!" grumbled Nanjiroh, walking over to the receiving point. "'Taku, if I'm not wishing you're heterosexual, I'd say you're in love with your captain and you have a relationship right now…" he added in a dark undertone.

Ryoma, who was taking a few gulps of water from his water bottle, choked.

Tezuka dropped the ball he was holding. Eiji screamed for the whole world to hear. Momoshiro's jaw dropped to the ground. Kaidoh remained impassive for a while as his brain processed what was said, before his eyes widened as large as saucer plates and his face turned beet red. Oishi flustered around Eiji, trying to stop his partner from screaming himself hoarse, all the while blushing. Kawamura stuttered subconsciously. Inui's hand seemed to flit faster over his notebook. Fuji giggled.

"HONTO?!" a mixture of voices came as the whole team except Fuji and Tezuka converged over a still-heaving Ryoma.

"Since when was this, gaki?!"

"I thought you were straight…"

"OCHIBI-CHAN'S IN LOOOOVE!"

"E-Eto, Ryoma, is this true?"

"Please do enlighten us, Ryoma-kun."

"Details, details, I want details, nya!"

"How did you rope buchou, gaki?!"

Fuji giggled behind his hand. "Hora, minna, Ryoma-chan doesn't like it when people pry into private business," he said, parting the crowd and running a soothing palm over a heaving Ryoma's back. "Can't you see he's choking?" Fuji cooed, straightening the younger boy and placing a soft, surprising kiss on Ryoma's cheek.

Ryoma's eyes widened in surprise as Fuji giggled behind his hand, drawing Ryoma close.

"HUAAAAA!!! FUJI KISSED OCHIBI!!!!"

"FUJI-SENPAI AND GAKI?!?"

"Fu-Fuji!"

**_"BURNING, BABY! LOVE IS IN THE _****_AIR_**!"

"Who gave Taka-san a racket?"

"Fssssssshhhh…"

"Huwahahahahahah!!" Nanjiroh screamed in laughter and mirth, doubling over and collapsing on the ground, rolling around with his barely suppressed laughter.

Eiji rushed over to Tezuka. "Ne, ne, ne, ne, neeeeee, buchou!!! I thought it was _you and ochibi!!!_"

"E-Eh?" Tezuka unintelligibly answered, wide-eyed and transfixed at a frozen Ryoma in a giggling Fuji's arm.

"HUNYAAAAA, A THREESOME!" hollered Eiji, a light bulb going off above his head animatedly and launching Nanjiroh in an even louder, longer peal of raucous laughter. Fuji giggled even more. Leave it to Eiji to worsen the situation with his let loose imagination.

"NANI?! A THREESOME?"

"Ii data! Ii data! Ii data…" Thud. "Kaidoh? O-Oi Kaidoh! Daijoubu? Kaidoh fainted!"

"**_OH MY GOD! RYOMA, _****_FUJI_** **_AND_****_ TEZUKA!_**"

" Fuji and Tezuka with Ryoma? Fuji and Tezuka with Ryoma…"

Tezuka remained speechless.

Then Ryoma smirked under his cap. Tezuka raised an eyebrow. Fuji chuckled, smiling.

Nanjiroh stopped laughing, seeing the expression on his young son's face.

"Oi, you're not seriously considering that, are you?"

* * *

**Tsuzuku

* * *

**

**Notes:  
****(1) **In the current manga development, Fuji has developed 8 counters in total: Tsubame Gaeshi, Higuma Otoshi, Hakugei, Kagerou Zutsumi, Houou Gaeshi, Kirin Otoshi, Hakuryuu and Hacetoncheires no Mondan. The last five are introduced during the OVA Nationals series.  
**(2) ****Kagerou Zutsumi** – Dragonfly Illusion. A technique where Fuji brandishes his racket downwards, effectively canceling the spin of the ball no matter how strong and returning the ball as a "sinker", or a dead ball with no spin. It also makes the ball look like it is closer than the actual distance. Introduced during the Higa Chuu match against Hirakoba Rin.  
**(3) ****Houou Gaeshi **– Phoenix Return. An upgraded version of Tsubame Gaeshi. Unlike Tsubame Gaeshi, the ball sinks closer to the net and deeper, closer to the ground, making it even harder to return. Introduced during the Shitenhouji match against Kuranosuke Shiraishi.  
**(4) ****Kirin**** Otoshi** – Kirin/Qilin Drop. (Qilin is a mythical animal. Look it up on Wikipedia.) An upgraded version of Higuma Otoshi. It is used two-handedly and can handle a more powerful smash compared to the ordinary Higuma Otoshi. Introduced during the match against Kuranosuke Shiraishi of Shitenhouji.  
**(5) ****Hakuryuu –** White Dragon. An upgraded version of Hakugei, and was used against Kuranosuke Shiraishi of Shitenhouji. The ball ascends higher into the sky and falls down faster, bouncing towards the side instead of back towards Fuji.  
**(6) ****Hacetoncheires no Mondan –** Gate Keepers of Hacetoncheires. Fuji uses the reverse side of his racket and receives the ball near the top, sliding the racket upwards and forcing a super spin on the ball as it rolls downwards. Then he flips his hand as the ball reaches the bottom of the racket face, flipping it to the other side of the racket and sliding the racket further upwards, pushing an even stronger spin on the ball. He releases the ball at the last possible time. As the ball is returned by the opponent, the super spin forces it to sink down before it reaches the net and thus gives the point to Fuji. (Hacetoncheires is a Greek mythological character, a hundred armed giant. It comes from a Greek story and it is a title, thus it is kept as Hecatoncheires and is not translated to "The Hundred Armed Giant".) Used against Kuranosuke Shiraishi of Shitenhouji.

**For more information, please visit Wikipedia or a fansite with the details. **It would be too long to put all details in here.

* * *

I say, Fuji is REAL creative with naming his techniques. And all of them are based on animals except for Hacetoncheires no Mondan. Really creative guy, that one. Amazing match that was with Shiraishi of Shitenhouji. But he still lost. Darn. Barely, though.

Anyhow, you should have already figured out the pairs by now, ne? Mmm, it seemed more fitting. Anyhow, situations will arise to complicate this when Kevin and Ryoga arrive. (Kia-chan grins. SPOILERS!)

Yosh, off to watch Jigoku Shoujo now!! REVIEW, PEOPLE!

* * *

**Kiasidira Ixari  
**_11.26.06 _


	8. Step Eight: Terror Trainor

**One Step  
**Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

I cannot believe this. Review ratings are rocketing skywards! Thanks _so much_ for reviewing! I will try my best to make this story even better, I swear. You guys inspire me to no end. I've been mulling over this plot for _months _now, but I never really wrote it down, thinking that no one will really read. Man, I was in for a shocker back there.

Anyhow, I'm in the computer labs right now, and damn, my hands are _freezing_ to death. At least this keyboard's fine. The other one was as stiff as hell.

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimers apply.

**Warning(s):** Angst! We're finally seeing real emotions here. Reference to mature themes ahead. **There is a possibility that ratings might go up. **I don't want to violate laws by putting this on mere T when it's supposed to be M.

**Pairing(s):** **TezuFuji**—**Ryoma, **possible eventual **RyoKev, OishiEiji, InuiKaidoh, AtobeJiroh, SanadaYukimura,** possible **MomoOC, **possible **AnnYuuta, ChoutarouShishido**. About the other teams, I'm still deciding.

**RyoKev** **fans, don't lose hope! Ryoma/Kevin is a BIG POSSIBILITY! Read on to find out why. **:D

* * *

**Step Eight: Terror Trainor

* * *

**

Ryoma dropped his head in his palms, groaning in frustration.

_This is why I hate bringing friends over for dinner._

The Echizen household's table was currently overcrowded as the whole of the newly-formed Seigaku Koto Gakkou tennis team converged over the food. It was not exactly him who invited the people over. It was his stupid dad.

"Oii, Momo, my anagoooo!!"

_(t/r: Anago is eel sushi. Eiji's favorite.)_

"Eiji-senpai, you stole my sushi last night. Now, it's _my _turn to steal from _you!_"

"Aaaaah! Oiiishiiiiii, Momo's being mean."

"Eiji—"

"Momo, hand me back my anago!"

"Noooooo!!"

"Echizen Nanjiroh eats with one leg up in his chair," nodded Inui, observing Nanjiroh as he ate and chortled over his food, watching the chaotic team. The dataman scribbled on his green notebook as he bit on his sashimi, nibbling silently. He nodded a few more times, scanning his eyes over his notes and adding a few tidbits here and there on the margins.

"Ne, Tezuka, do you want some of these?" Fuji offered, motioning towards the stew. Without waiting for an answer, Fuji ladled several spoonfuls of stew over Tezuka's rice bowl, evenly distributing the sauce. Evidently, Fuji was on "mother hen" mode tonight. "Eat up, you need your energy."

Tezuka sighed and nodded. Fuji smiled and turned towards Ryoma, who was on his other side.

"Ryoma!" he admonished warningly. "Finish your food! If you don't you won't get taller."

Ryoma glared. "Fuji-senpai, I'm almost as tall as you already."

"Yes, but you can still get tall_er_," Fuji emphasized, procuring two bottles of milk and placing it before Ryoma. "Eat up, ochibi-chan."

Ryoma sighed in submission, exchanging exasperated glances with Tezuka as Fuji coddled over the both of them. Strangely enough, Fuji was only devoting attention to them two and ignoring everyone else. Ever since the "threesome incident" earlier this afternoon, Eiji and Momoshiro were both giggling at the smallest interaction between the three of them. What was worse, Nanjiroh was forcing the three of them together _all the time_.

They sat beside each other in the table, they bathed together in the bathroom earlier, they changed together, and they were even in the _same block_ together!

"Ne, oyaji, what's this about the block teams you've been ranting about earlier?" Ryoma asked before turning to Fuji. "Fuji-senpai, can you please pass me the salt?"

"Hmm?" Nanjiroh hummed through his food, chewing noisily. "There are nine of you all in all, right?" he continued, munching over a snatched meatball from Ryoma, who glared. "I'm putting you in blocks of three according to my analysis of your skills. Dataman's helping me in on this. All in all, there will be three blocks. Each block will have its own specialized form of training, and every two weeks, there will be an assessment. When we form the tennis club—"

"—when?"

"Yes, _when_. Not _if_. I'm certain we'll win," munched Nanjiroh. "As I was saying before I was interrupted, when we for the tennis club officially, we will still have that old tradition of Seigaku, the monthly ranking matches. During those times, these three blocks will be dispersed. This will work for the whole of the club later on, after their assessments. There will be more than a hundred members give or take, so _you guys_ will help me assess the other members."

"Does that explain why Fuji-senpai, buchou and I are in the same block?" Ryoma stingily asked.

"Yes, it _does_," Nanjiroh snorted. "Weren't you listening? I blocked you _according to your skills_. Your level is among the top, and that's why you'll hold one of the three singles position. One will go to Syuu-kun and another will go to kid captain," Nanjiroh pointed out. "And I do _not_ know why that old hag's saying that your weakness is doubles, honestly."

"Isn't it, nya?" Eiji asked.

Nanjiroh gave him a piercing look. "Your team has the best doubles pair in the nation, right?"

"Hai, demo, if and when we get beaten, the doubles are doomed," Oishi reasoned, eyes cast down.

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself, kid!" snorted Nanjiroh. "That was before. It's different now."

"Eh?"

"Kid captain, Syuu-kun and seishounen are all out of the question in doubles," Nanjiroh ticked off. "So who's left? Neko-chan, mother hen, peach butt, snakey, dataman and Taka-chin."

Oishi blushed at the "mother hen" comment, Momoshiro growled at the "peach butt" pet name, and Kaidoh hissed when he was called "snakey". Eiji simply giggled when he was called "neko-chan".

"Neko-chan and mother hen can do Synchro(1)," Nanjiroh continued. "So we all know for certain their in the doubles. In case you guys haven't noticed, peach butt and snakey are very close to Synchro already," Nanjiroh explained. "Scratch that, I'm sure you haven't noticed yet, from your expressions."

He was right. Momoshiro and Kaidoh looked at each other in surprise, and Inui narrowed his eyes, starting to take more notes in his notebook.

"Close to Synchro?" Kawamura repeated. "How do you know?"

"From my analysis," Nanjiroh quipped. "Earlier, when neko-chan and mother hen were playing doubles with you guys, I noticed the similarities and synchronization in your actions. Peach butt, you're making the game play, being a naturally aggressive player and staying up front. You analyze the opponents' movements carefully and by some instinctual communication or body language between you and snakey, you relay the message. Then, snakey supports your game play from behind and defends the courts, effectively returning all balls getting past you and confusing the enemy by using his Tornado Snake's different spins(2). You might not notice it, but the two of you are slowly connecting and synchronizing. You're growing into a perfect doubles pair."

"Indeed, Kaidoh and Momo are getting harder and harder to beat nowadays," nodded Oishi.

"Who would have thought the two toughest rivals would become doubles players?" chuckled Kawamura, earning glares from both Momoshiro and Kaidoh.

"And then there's Taka-chin and dataman for back-up," Nanjiroh continued, ignoring Momoshiro's glares and Kaidoh's hisses. "The whole team is relying on dataman for data gathering. He's practically the brain of the team. Taka-chin's heavy hitting is vital to the team. A team without a heavy hitter is a team that's heading to its death. A heavy hitter as an opponent can only be dealt with another heavy hitter. We need Taka-chin's heavy shots to fend off any heavy hitters whenever we encounter them. I heard there's one in Hyotei, right?"

Inui nodded. "Munehiro Kabaji. He copied Taka-san's Hadoukyuu before."

"See?" Nanjiroh pointed out. "I'm pretty sure none of you in this room can handle a full-blown Hadoukyuu. Even _I_ can't. I can find a way to get around it though, but to challenge that shot head on is suicide. That's why we have to find a way for Taka-chin to overcome the self-damage it produces and for him to be able to use it continuously without running out of stamina or injuring himself."

"It would be extremely useful if I could use it like that Jyosei player's Mirage," Kawamura remarked. "That player Ryoma beat during middle school."

"Oh, that?" hummed Ryoma. "If you want, I can teach you the secret of that Mirage. It's pretty easy."

"But you'll have to use your Ten'i Muhou no Kiwami(3)," Nanjiroh sighed. "I forbid you from using it in public, Ryoma."

"I _know_," Ryoma shot back. "I _won't_. Unless it's _completely necessary_, I won't."

"Then just leave Taka-chin to me," Nanjiroh concluded, leaving no space for arguments. Ryoma sighed in exasperation. "Then, _you three_," Nanjiroh firmly said, directing a hard gaze on Ryoma, Fuji and Tezuka. "_You three are the pillars here._ Understand that. The whole team is depending on you three more than anything else."

"Somehow, that pillar thing sounds familiar," snorted Ryoma. Fuji chuckled, and Tezuka's lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. "Ne, what was that buchou? '_Become Seigaku's supporting pillar'_ or something like that…"

"No, I think it was '_Seigaku's pillar of support'_, ne, Tezuka?" Fuji smiled. Tezuka nodded.

"Eh, what are you guys talking about?" asked Eiji cluelessly.

"Nandemonai," Fuji dismissed. "De, Nanjiroh-sensei, what were you saying?"

Nanjiroh nodded, calling for seconds. Kawamura stood up, taking Nanjiroh's bowl, much to Nanako's embarrassment.

"Ara, gomen nasai…"

"Ii yo, we operate a restaurant, so I'm used to this."

"Saa, as I was saying," Nanjiroh continued, gulping down his tea. "The team will be depending on you guys. You need to win, put that in your mind all the time. You're considered the '_elite players'_ in this club, so hold up the name of the team and make sure you _win_."

"Hai," came a collective answer.

"Ja, we'll start the special training tomorrow!" decided Nanjiroh, punching a fist into the air. "5:00 AM tomorrow!"

"NANI?!??!"

"UNYAAA, NOT _THAT_ EARLY!"

Groan. "Oyaji, _please_… I'm betting you're not even awake by that time."

"Betting 100!"

"Sure."

"You'd better have that 100 ready by tomorrow, seishounen," Nanjiroh heartily chortled. "I'll be milking your wallet."

"As if you aren't already," Ryoma muttered under his breath. Fuji placed a hand behind Ryoma's warm neck, and the boy leaned instinctively towards the soft touch.

"Minna, the coach said tomorrow, 5 AM. So tomorrow, be here at 5 AM. Those who are late will be penalized by drinking Inui's latest concoction," Tezuka said with finality, the commanding tone silencing the whole of the team. The last phrase sent shivers down the team members' spines.

"Ooo, I like the effect Tezuka plus Inui's concoction has on you guys," Nanjiroh whistled. "You guys are so obedient when it comes to your buchou, ne?"

"Mochiron da, why else would he be called buchou otherwise?" Ryoma mumbled again.

"Yosh, yosh, I want all of you here gathered here tomorrow, ok? I told you to expect and prepare for hell, so you'd better do so," cackled Nanjiroh. "Your whole body will ache all over after tomorrow's done."

"Somehow, I don't' even want to think what kind of training's waiting for us tomorrow," Momoshiro mumbled.

"Somehow, I have an idea what kind of training we'll be going under," grumbled Ryoma. "And I don't want to think about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Right, you kids better get home," hummed Nanjiroh as they all finished dinner almost at the same time. "We don't want your parents worrying too much."

"Arigato gozaimashita!" came a mix of masculine voices. There was a flurry of activity as the boys one by one started standing up, cleaning after themselves and washing their own. Afterwards the whole team started dispersing one by one, Kawamura being the first one to leave. Soon, he was followed by Inui and Kaidoh, then Momoshiro went off, then Eiji and Oishi, and lastly Tezuka and Fuji.

"Mata ashita ne, Ryoma-chan," smiled Fuji.

"Hai," nodded Ryoma, seeing them off. Nanjiroh's giggling was audible from the living room, where he was reading off on his own yet again. Tezuka chuckled, hearing the giggling.

"What a peculiar coach we have."

"Stupid too," Ryoma added, handing Tezuka his bag after the young man finished tying his shoes and stood up. Tezuka nodded his thanks as Fuji leaned down and placed another tender kiss on Ryoma's cheek. "Fuji-senpai," sighed Ryoma.

Fuji smiled. "I don't hear you complaining," he quipped, patting Ryoma's other cheek with his palm as the younger boy pouted childishly.

Tezuka mussed Ryoma's hair, a rare sign of affection. "Sleep well, Ryoma."

"Hai, I will," nodded Ryoma, leaning into the touch visibly. The two young men walked out the front door and out into the dark, the shorter of them looking back and smiling as he waved good bye. "Mata ashita!"

Ryoma watched his two most respected senpais walk off, their backs fading slowly into the pitch black darkness illuminated scantily by the lamp lights.

"Finished bidding your boyfriends goodbye, seishounen?" chuckled Nanjiroh, startling the young boy as the elder man popped out of nowhere behind the boy and placed a warm hand on a small, fit shoulder. "They're good young men. Good players too."

"So you approve?" smirked Ryoma teasingly, even though both of them knew nothing was official.

"Daddy approves, Ryoma-chan," chortled Nanjiroh. Then he feinted hurt by placing a hand on his chest. "Daddy's little girl is growing up so fast!"

"Darn it, oyaji, I'm not a girl!"

Nanjiroh laughed. "Syuusuke's making you look like one."

Ryoma pouted.

"And you're giving in too," whistled Nanjiroh as he flounced back to his porn. "But man, aren't you three a bit slow? Make a move on it!" he said, slapping the younger boy on the back before walking off completely.

"Shut up, will you?"

Ryoma groaned, dragging himself up his room. As soon as he got inside, he collapsed on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm. If he was given relationship advice by his father, the condition must really be _bad_.

Right, time to call the number one confidant and best friend.

* * *

"Ne, Tezuka, is this alright with you?" a soft voice asked, the voice floating through the darkness. A lithe back arched against a soft hand trailing down against it.

"Hmm?"

"Ryoma," Fuji mentioned, placing a soft kiss against Tezuka's jaw and savoring their post-coital bliss.

"What about him?" Tezuka replied, running his hands up and down Fuji's bare back.

"Should we let him in?" Fuji asked, laying his head against Tezuka's bare chest. "Would it be okay to let him in?"

"Why not?" Tezuka shrugged. "The boy's grown up, Syuusuke."

"Maa ne," chuckled Fuji. "Ryoma-chan's growing up so fast, he's outrunning us."

"Sometimes, growing up fast isn't that beneficial to a person."

"Sou ka na?" Fuji hummed, coiling his legs tighter around Tezuka's pulling the blankets over them. "Let's go to sleep, shall we, Mitsu? We have to get up early tomorrow or else we'll end up drinking a pitcher of Betelgeuse."

"Makes me want to regret I ever said that was the punishment," Tezuka shuddered in thought. Fuji chuckled. The tensai loved and basked in the fact that Tezuka was more open with him than he was with anyone else. It made him feel somehow special to be held high in the captain's view.

"Oyasumi, Mitsu-chan," whispered Fuji, planting a chaste kiss on Tezuka's lips, before laying his head down on the captain's shoulder.

"Oyasumi, Syuusuke."

* * *

"What the _hell_ do you mean you're not sure?!" Kevin snapped through the phone he was holding, grunting as he twisted the rebellious juice bottle cap. He sighed in exasperation as he listened to his best friend who was halfway around the world.

"Kevin, it's not that easy to go up to them and ask them to be my boyfriends," Ryoma's voice came through sarcastically.

"Ryomaaaa," whined Kevin. "All you have to do is make the first move! Nothing will happen if you don't! And don't you _dare_ tell me that you just want to wait for _them_ to make the move, because I will _not_ accept it!" he lectured, chugging down half the juice bottle in one straight gulp. He was thirsty, tired and sweaty from practice, and here Ryoma came, whining about his love life. Kevin wanted to guffaw. "They _won't_ make the first move, since they're uncertain if you will accept them, idiot!"

"Fine, fine, I understand, you don't have to shout so loud into the phone!" Ryoma grumbled. "I get it. Make the first move. Alright."

"Just use your usual bluntness, okay?" Kevin sighed. "That'll work, I assure you. From what you've told me about Fuji and Tezuka, it'll work."

"Right, okay, I'll keep that in mind, then," Ryoma grumbled from the other side. "But I'm a bit surprised, you approved so fast."

"Wait for a moment," Kevin said into the phone, before switching into English and pressing the hotel's pager button. "**_Can someone please bring three slices of strawberry vanilla sponge cake plus an extra-large caramel frappe to room 517? Extra caramel on top."_**

"_**Right away, sir**,"_ came a reply.

"_**Thanks.**"_

"Honestly, Kevin, put a leash on your sweet tooth," Ryoma exasperatedly voiced through the phone.

"I don't berate you for drinking too much Ponta, baka," Kevin pointed out.

That silenced the other boy.

Then Kevin sighed, sinking into the chair beside the kitchen counter, leaning his elbow against it, his blonde hair ruffling as he released a puff of breath. "Look, Ryoma, I'm approving of this, but if those suckers hurt you, I swear I'll skewer their heads on a poker."

A laugh came from the other side. "Now that sounds more like you."

Kevin smiled in spite of himself, closing his eyes. "Just as long as you're happy. I'm fine with that."

There was silence. A single tear escaped one closed eye.

"Thanks, Kev."

"No problem, Ryo," Kevin smiled into the phone, praying to the gods that his voice won't crack. "No problem at all."

More tears.

A faint voice came from the other side. "Seishounen, go to sleep, or else you'll be drinking that beetle juice tomorrow morning!"

"Hai, hai, just shut up!" Ryoma yelled back, before returning to the phone. Kevin chuckled, trying to hide his tears. "You heard the old man, I need to go and sleep now. Take care of yourself, Kev, and make sure you get enough sleep. And eat proper food too. Ok?"

"Yes, mom."

A yawn. "Goodnight, ne, Kev? Take care over there."

"Hai, hai. You too. Go to sleep now."

"Mm, ja."

"Ja."

The phone that was entirely similar to Ryoma's phone blacked out as the light died. More tears came as Kevin hunched over on the counter, resting his eyes against his arm as he sobbed.

What he had feared long ago has finally happened.

* * *

Ryoma sighed, letting his hand fall back on the bed from his ear, the metallic racket and balls on his cell phone straps tinkling. He flipped the phone close and took a deep breath.

It was weird. Kevin never ate strawberry unless he was depressed or in somewhat a bad mood. Then again, Kevin liked to change tastes once in a while. He remembered when Kevin once hated chocolate cake and preferred cinnamon. Then the next day, he woke up to Kevin eating chocolate cake for breakfast.

The said blonde had an incurable sweet tooth, Ryoma knew as much. Kevin would spend more money on his food than on his clothes or gear. Not that it mattered, what with the amount of money they were both earning from playing in the pro scene. Though Kevin withdrew from the pro scene at the same time that he did, the kid was still earning from commercials and sponsor promotions. Kevin kept on complaining about it, though.

Ryoma didn't want Kevin to take the break with him, but the blonde had insisted. At first, the blonde had reasoned out that it was because he didn't want Ryoma to be lonely during the break, but after Ryoma tactlessly pointed out that he wouldn't be lonely with his former teammates, Kevin actually clammed up and said nothing more. If it wasn't because of his father's case, he would still be playing in the pros right now and not taking the break with him.

Of course, afterwards, he had apologized endlessly, but Kevin just smiled and shrugged it off, waving dismissively and asking what the hell he was apologizing for, having done nothing wrong. Despite the blonde's chipper and tough countenance, he was very delicate. Ryoma knew as much. Ryoma knew that the kid's suffered enough in his life and deserved only to be happy, and that was what Ryoma wanted so desperately for him. That was what Ryoma wanted to accomplish by being Kevin's best friend and brother and staying beside him all the way.

As the young man slowly drifted to sleep, the faint doubt that _he_ might be the one causing pain for Kevin remained unregistered in his already slumbering brain.

* * *

Nanjiroh stretched as he walked out the front yard, yawning and rubbing his eyes, before punching his arms into the air. "Yosh! First torture training day!"

Then he stormed back into the house and up the stairs to a certain young man's room. "OU, SEISHOUNEN, RISE AND SHINE!"

Rolling over under the covers and burrowing his face into his soft pillow, Ryoma batted Nanjiroh with his free hand. "Mmm, go 'way."

"TORTURE TRAINING STARTS TODAY!" yelled Nanjiroh. "Come ON!"

"Mmm, go 'waaaay," whined Ryoma, turning away from his dad's loud voice and clutching harder at the red phone still in his other hand.

"If you don't get up, you'll be drinking Betelgeuse, remember?"

At that, Ryoma bolted upright. "No beetle juice!"

Nanjiroh howled, bending over in laughter at the boy's reaction. "Is that beetle juice that bad?"

Ryoma growled aggressively, pouncing on his dad, who yelped as Ryoma started clawing on him like a cat. "Why don't you try it so you'll know, idiot?!"

"Ouch, that's harsh, boy!" Nanjiroh feigned hurt, placing a hand on his chest as Ryoma straddled him.

Then Ryoma sighed and slumped against his dad. "I'm still sleepy, oyajiiiii…" he whined.

Nanjiroh chuckled. The boy could be a real baby when he wanted to be. "Come on, up, Ryoma," Nanjiroh coaxed, pulling the boy into a sitting position. "Come on, baby boy, up. Man, you can really be a spoiled brat, you know that? Come on, come on."

Nanjiroh hauled Ryoma upright, making the boy whine even more. "Why did you have to put it up at 5 in the morning?!"

"That's one of the reasons it's called _Torture Training_, Ryoma," Nanjiroh pointed out bluntly. "Now go and get yourself cleaned up and refreshed and get into your gear!"

"Hai, hai," Ryoma mumbled, sleepwalking into the bathroom.

Nanjiroh descended back out in the front yard, savoring the fresh, crisp morning air. The sky was tinted dark blue and grey, and the sun had yet to peek in the horizon. It was early. He grinned. Ryoma owed him a hundred bucks. He waited by the gates, leaning against the post and tapping his foot rhythmically in a makeshift rhythm.

His mind went back to the conversation he overheard last night. He would bet a thousand that Kevin was crying now. Sometimes, Ryoma could be just plain blind. Nanjiroh felt for the other kid. He sighed. His son was hopeless. He didn't want to intrude, though. Ryoma was growing up, and he was having a private life of himself. He respected the boy's privacy. It worked both ways.

After a while, Ryoma trudged out the front yard, still yawning, wearing his tennis gear and carrying one racket, his pockets bulging with balls. He dragged himself to his dad, before slumping against the opposite post and waiting for his teammates.

"Ohayou!" came a panting voice from behind Nanjiroh. The coach turned and his face lit up.

"Snakey-kun!" grinned Nanjiroh. "Ohayou!"

"As expected of Kaidoh-senpai, ne…" Ryoma sleepily mumbled, yawning and closing his eyes, napping while leaning against the post. Kaidoh sweat dropped as the younger boy snoozed off to Nanjiroh's chortles. Ryoma was evidently no morning person.

Just then, another figure approached.

"Ohayou, Nanjiroh-sensei, Kaidoh, and—"

"Don't bother, Inui-senpai, he won't hear you, he's asleep," Kaidoh snorted.

"Oh," Inui said, regarding the snoozing Ryoma with a look behind his glasses before turning to Nanjiroh. "I brought the Betelgeuse, sensei."

"Good, good!" nodded Nanjiroh, patting Inui on the back. "Yosh, it's ten minutes to five… let's see who arrives _after_ five."

After five minutes, Tezuka and Fuji arrived. "Ohayou, minna!" Fuji cheerfully greeted, eyes immediately searching for a small figure and finding it humped against a post, napping. "Ryoma-chaaan, ohayou!" he cooed, pulling Ryoma upright and waking the boy, who was blank and tried to register his surroundings as he was pulled into Fuji's warm arms. Ryoma threw out both arms and settled them on Fuji's waist to level himself.

"Fuji-senpai?" Ryoma groggily asked through Fuji's sweater as Fuji wrapped long arms around the smaller boy and rested his head against Ryoma's.

"Ohayou!" Fuji greeted again. "Mmmm, I missed Ryoma-chan so much!" cooed Fuji, pulling his arms around Ryoma tighter. The boy didn't struggle.

As Fuji half-heartedly released him, Tezuka came over and mussed the boy's head. "Good sleep?"

"Hai, good but not enough," grumbled Ryoma, leaning into Tezuka's hand like a cat would.

"HOI! OHAYOU, NYA!" came a loud, boisterous voice. Eiji, Oishi and Kawamura came running from the other direction, the redhead waving cheerfully at them.

"Ohayou, Eiji," chuckled Fuji. Oishi nodded to all of them and Kawamura simply chuckled. They were right on time: 5 AM sharp.

"Looks like the last one's drinking," chuckled Nanjiroh. The sound of a rapidly pedaling person on a bike came as Momoshiro whizzed past the houses and stopped short in front of them.

"O-hayou!" Momoshiro panted.

"You're _late_," Nanjiroh bluntly pointed out. "Dataman!"

"Hai!"

Momoshiro's eyes widened at the sight of the fizzling, bubbling concoction with indescribable color presented in front of him. The bubbles on top of it popped and the smoke went up straight in a lethal line. The viscous substance fizzled in front of him. "Bottoms up, Momoshiri-kun."

"NOOOOO!!!"

Thud.

* * *

Ryoma dragged himself across the corridor like a zombie, sliding the door to the classroom open with a loud snap and dragging himself into the classroom.

"Ohayou…" he drawled.

"Echizen-kun! Are you sick? You don't look too good!" Kachiro immediately noticed.

"You could say that," grumbled Ryoma. The _whole team_ was sick. Who ever ran 50 kilometers in the morning _with 5 kilograms of weight strapped on their limbs_? And to make it worse, everyone who didn't make it back to the house by 7:30 in the morning had to drink a shot of Betelgeuse, which meant all of them. "You guys wanna try Inui-senpai's Betelgeuse?"

"NOOO!!" screamed Katsuo, Kachiro and Horio, catching the sudden attention of their classmates. "ZETTAI YADDA!!"

"Thought so," nodded Ryoma, slumping into his seat and falling asleep immediately.

The trio sweatdropped.

"Wonder what happened."

"He's knocked out."

"That's rare. He _never_ gets knocked out."

"Saa ne."

* * *

Ryoma walked through the corridors, yawning as he made his way to the cafeteria. He wanted maybe a Ponta or two, and then sleep. He needed to catch up. His body was sore all over from all that running. Even now, they were still wearing the weights, and they weren't allowed to take them off. They looked like ordinary wristbands, but weighed a _ton_ from his perspective. It made her movements sluggish and slow.

He walked towards the vending section of the cafeteria without looking ahead of him, and bumped into someone.

"Ah, gomen," he apologized blankly, bowing slightly.

"Well, look who it is," sneered a familiar voice. "Mr. High and Mighty. High and mighty, my ass."

There was laughter as the cafeteria silenced again. Yokubou and his group stood towering before Ryoma. The huge Teruo was flanking Yokubou, and there was nowhere for Ryoma to run.

But really, he wasn't thinking the very least along those lines. He yawned. "Oh, it's you guys. Ohayou. Are you through? I want to get Ponta," he mumbled sleepily.

Yokubou's lips lifted in annoyance and raised his hand, Ryoma not noticing. His hand descended unnoticed by Ryoma.

Half the cafeteria closed their eyes in anticipation of the loud slapping sound.

But it never came.

Tezuka stood behind Ryoma, holding Yokubou's outstretched arm by the wrist firmly. "You don't want to continue what you were about to do."

Tezuka released Yokubou's arm, pinning the other with a piercing solid glare.

Ryoma groggily looked up. "Huh? Buchou? When did you get here? I didn't notice you. Oh, Yokubou-san. What were we talking about again?"

The whole cafeteria sweat dropped.

"Ryoma-chan, come here," a gentle voice came from behind Tezuka. Fuji pulled Ryoma from his position between Yokubou and Tezuka and into his arms. "You're still sleepy, aren't you?" he smiled, mussing Ryoma's hair as the boy leaned into his chest. The whole cafeteria stared. Apparently, there were lots of rumor-loving spill-mouths here.

"Aa," Ryoma muttered, before his soft expression morphed into a glare. "_Who the hell wakes up in such an ungodly hour anyways?!_" he snapped suddenly. "Darn it, makes me wanna kill that old man over and over again!"

Fuji chuckled as the boy continued grumbling profanities and inhumane, bloody torture methods regarding their new coach who loved torture training sessions. Ryoma harrumphed, leaning back into Fuji's chest.

"Buchou, I don't get it," Ryoma complained. "Why do we have to train this hard to beat these _losers_ anyways?" Ryoma whined, motioning towards Yokubou and his group. "We can defeat them in three straight matches and reclaim the tennis club. You and Fuji-senpai won't even have the chance to fight."

"This training isn't only for them, Ryoma," explained Tezuka. "It's advanced training for further matches later on."

Ryoma whined. "Not that I can't take the training, but it's taking a toll on my sleeping hours…"

Fuji chuckled. "Sleep in English period, then," he said. "Saa, let's go, the others are waiting for us in the grounds. Let's buy your Ponta in the vending machine outside."

Ryoma nodded, sighing as he was pulled along with Fuji and Tezuka. Behind them, Yokubou seethed in barely suppressed anger as the cafeteria milled with fresh, new rumors.

* * *

Students milled out of the school as they called it a day and prepared to go home. The nine players emerged out of the building, jostling and laughing, whining and complaining, shouting and arguing. They were the center of attention.

Why?

Because they carried bags.

"They're carrying tennis bags!"

"This is rare!"

"Aren't they banned from the tennis club?"

"Maybe they're only playing out in street courts…"

"I heard that they're planning to beat the current tennis club members and take over…"

"…isn't that better? That way, we'll have hope in the next tournaments."

"Yeah, I know."

"I hope they win…"

"They _will_ win!"

Momoshiro sighed. "Man, do they call that whispering?" he chortled. "We can hear them loud and clear."

Just then, one of the students cheered, "Wohoo! Go and beat the tennis team, you guys!"

Then, another. "Yeah! Run them over!"

"We're counting on you guys!"

"Win the Nationals for us too!"

"Reclaim the trophy!"

Ryoma raised both eyebrows. "I did _not_ know you guys were _this_ famous. I mean, I _knew_ you _were_ famous, but not to this extent."

Fuji chuckled, pulling Ryoma closer to his side by the arm that was slung snugly around Ryoma's neck. "It's not that _we're_ famous, it's just that the tennis club's _in_famous. They just want us to beat the club."

"Well, that makes sense," Oishi nodded.

"Nya! Ya-hoii, support us, ok?!" Eiji called out to the gathering crowd.

The crowd cheered and made way for them as they approached the gates. Eiji seemed to be enjoying the popularity, bouncing ahead and waving his arms off.

"Well, isn't Eiji-senpai chipper," Momoshiro quipped. "It seems the weights are nothing to him, ne?"

"Seems like it," nodded Kawamura.

"Kaidoh, do the weights feel heavy?" Inui asked, a pen poised over his notebook.

Kaidoh moved his arms around. "Nope, not at all. Just a bit heavier than yours, but the difference is meager, it's almost unnoticeable."

"Sou," nodded Inui. In the whole of the team, Kaidoh was the one most in shape, since he's been continuing training ever since and had not stopped even one day. Under the supervision of Inui, Kaidoh improved more and more during the time they were laying dormant, having been banned from the tennis club.

"Ou, seishounen-tachi! Hurry up and get your asses here!" a familiar voice hollered from the front gates, catching the attention of most students.

The whole team groaned. Their coach was working them crazy.

"No waaaaay, nyaaaaa…" Eiji groaned, immediately losing his bounce and enthusiasm. They now knew what Nanjiroh meant by torture training. Or at least they did. Ryoma had kept on insisting this morning that it was only a prologue to the real terror, a mere preview. They just had an _idea_, but they didn't know for sure yet.

The team hurried forward, passing the dispersing crowd by. As they came to Nanjiroh, shivers ran down their spines in apprehension, seeing that devious smirk on the coach's face. It wasn't something one would want to see before going to sleep, for it would guarantee that person a comatose, never to wake up again from a terrible nightmare.

Or something like that.

"This afternoon, and the following afternoons in the remaining eight and a half days, we will be practicing with other teams I called on," Nanjiroh announced as soon as the whole team was within earshot.

"Teams?"

"Who?"

"Nyaaaaaa, could it be Hyotei again?"

"_Teams_, neko-chan," Nanjiroh repeated. "_Plural_."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow.

Nanjiroh motioned them to come with him. They walked out of the school grounds and went left, towards the big, vacant lot beside the school often used as a parking lot or practice area for other sport clubs the school has. As they rounded the corner, there were three buses.

One striped gray and blue bus, one striped yellow bus, and one striped black bus.

Three teams stood before them.

"From now on, we will be conducting team practices with Hyotei Koto Gakkou, Rikkaidai Fuzokukoto and Fudou Koto Gakkou."

Atobe smirked.

* * *

**Tsuzuku

* * *

**

**(1) ****Synchro** – a tennis doubles technique first mentioned in the Golden Pair's first Nationals fight. They are among the few pairs who can perform this ultimate doubles feat. Another pair is the doubles pair from Shitenhouji who fought against Momo and Kaidoh. This technique is when the two players subconsciously connect with each other, coordinating their actions perfectly without holes and increasing their threat to the enemy ten times over.

**(2) **The Tornado Snake invented by Kaidoh can produce several hundred spins, according to Inui. It is a technique where the ball can go faster by spinning around in tighter circles, or confuse the enemy more by spinning in lose, large circles. It depends on the situation whether Kaidoh decides on a fast or a slow, confusing and provoking ball.

**(3) ****Ten'i Muhou no Kiwami** – "_The Pinnacle of Perfection_". This is the ultimate State of Self-Actualization level, the third and last door. Among the other two, namely _"Hyourai Ren Jitoku no Kiwami" (The Pinnacle of Hard Work)_ by Tezuka and _"Saiki Kanbatsu no Kiwami" (The Pinnacle of Great Wisdom)_ by Chitose of Shitenhouji, this one is the only one left undiscovered by any of the current players except one: Echizen Nanjiroh. In the manga, it is said that Tooyama Kintarou of Shitenhouji is far closer to achieving this pinnacle, but I am biased, so I made Ryoma approach it too. Two years passed already after all.

Wheeee, cliffie again! I love cliffies. When I'm the one making them. Kia-chan is evil!

**Kiasidira Ixari  
**_12.02.06 _


	9. Step Nine: Old Rivals and Revelations

**One Step  
**Written by: Kiasidira Ixari

Reviews are dropping. REVIEW! Or else I won't get inspired. Tell me what you think about the chapter or something. Criticize, even. Just tell me what you think. I need reassurance that I'm pleasing you readers, you know. So I'll have a reason to go on.

Man, that sounded cheesy.

Anyhow! Kia-chan is evil, having left you terribly hanging with the last chapter, so Kia-chan will make sure that you guys are satisfied in this chapter. (Really, I didn't plan for any of these chapters to be 6,000 words long—sometimes even more—but now that I've started the habit, I can't stop. It seems like this story is going to be like my other story, Twilight. Lengthy, well-drawn chapters.)

God, I _researched_ so much for this chapter! I had a hard time figuring out their block teams, the training regime, I had to memorize their techniques and stuff… damn.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s): Mild lime**. (Meaning lusty kissing and mild groping. Nothing too serious for the non-queasy, but something quite serious for the yaoi-sensitive.)

**Lots of hugs to Aventria-chan who keeps on giving me long, insightful reviews! **Kia-chan loves you! Kia-chan will do her best for you!

Saa, I won't keep you waiting any longer! Here we go! (Note: I am laughing while I write the first part of this chapter.)

* * *

**Step Nine: Old Rivals and Revelations

* * *

**

Atobe smirked.

"Yo, unofficial Seigaku team members," the Hyotei captain smirked, brushing a hand through his well-kept, shiny hair. "Miss me?"

An immediate answer came.

"Miss you, my ass," snorted Ryoma. "Who'd miss a monkey king like you?"

A glare.

"There are _many_ people who would miss ore-sama," Atobe smirked gallantly, flashing a bright smile.

Ryoma cringed. _What a self-centered person._

"I see your hair's grown longer, _monkey king_," Ryoma retorted, raising an eyebrow as his statement hit two birds with one stone. "I kind of don't like it. I prefer the previous do better. Want me to help you re-do it again?" Ryoma smirked suggestively, reminding the Hyotei captain of his defeat in the Nationals.

That day was one of Ryoma's finest days in his entire life. Having defeated Atobe Keigo, the next elite to be defeated after Sanada and the precursor to defeating Tezuka, he had fulfilled a bet between him and the said "Mr. King of the Monkeys".

_He shaved Atobe Keigo's head._

Bald.

"Actually, I was thinking of redoing _your_ hairstyle, Echizen-kun," Atobe pushed back, recovering quickly, trying to relieve his face of his scowl. "After all, I do not make mistakes _twice._"

Ryoma opened his mouth and was about to make another smart-ass comment when Tezuka interjected.

"Enough," the young captain sighed, exasperated. "We all get the point. You two missed holding the other at the throat, so we'll let you do as you please during practice and go shave your heads bald, but we will not be arguing here."

Ryoma pouted, harrumphing and taking a sidestep, inching closer to Fuji and farther from Tezuka as a sign of annoyance. Tezuka sighed at this. The teen could really be childishly stubborn when he wanted to. It was unexpectedly cute, but still, stubbornness was something a person did not want to retain in their personality. Persistence was one thing, but that was entirely different from stubbornness.

Just then, Eiji exploded as a certain other redheaded acrobat exited from a gray and blue bus, having remained inside during Ryoma and Atobe's heated exchange.

"YOU!! WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?" Eiji blared.

Ryoma cringed and Tezuka sighed, cradling his forehead. Fuji simply smiled wider while Momoshiro, Kawamura, Oishi and Kaidoh all tried to calm down the fuming redhead acrobat on their team. Yuushi sighed, dropping his head. Choutarou and Shishido remained to one side, trying to seem inconspicuous and remain safely and blissfully uninvolved. Atobe released a short breath in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

Mukahi Gakuto glared. "In _case_ you haven't noticed, carrothead, I'm _here_ with my _team_!" he shouted back.

"Who are you calling carrothead?! Don't speak like you aren't one too!" snapped Eiji hotly.

Tezuka sweat dropped. These two were worse.

Inui walked forward. "Renji, long time no see," Inui smiled slightly, offering a hand which was accepted in a handshake. The Rikkaidai player nodded in recognition and offered his own hand, and the two data analyst experts lapsed into a conversation of an entirely different language. Therefore, the rest of the crowd decided to ignore them.

This started the exchange and talking between teams.

"Fuji, Ann wants me to tell you to say hi to Yuuta for her whenever I see you," Tachibana chuckled, passing on the message. "'Taku, those two really need to go to the same school. Ann plans on making me her messenger now."

Fuji simply smiled. "Ah, Yuuta's quite talkative about Ann nowadays too," he smiled, apparently approving of the pair. Then his smile dropped a notch. "What's not nice is that onee-san is catching up on Yuuta, and she might just intrude. I want to keep her at bay, but Yumiko-nee-san is someone both Yuuta and I don't cross."

"Wow, there's a person Fuji-senpai doesn't cross?!" Momoshiro exclaimed in surprise.

"How rude," Kamio inserted. "Jutting into someone else's conversation like that…"

"Sou na…" nodded Shinji. "But this is good. I can finally get a chance to test my abilities against Echizen-kun. It's a good opportunity, and it would be too disappointing to exploit. Sou, sou. I should take advantage of these team practice sessions and train with Echizen-kun. There is a huge possibility that I can pick up and learn something too. Sou, sou…"

"Echizen-kun, congratulations on your last win against Federer," came a gentle voice, much like Fuji's. Ryoma tilted his head to look up at Yukimura's smiling, kind face.

"Ah, domo," nodded Ryoma, keeping his eyes low in respect. Yukimura was among the few Ryoma really respected, in league with Tezuka, Fuji, Tachibana and Sanada. Atobe was included too, but just barely.

"It was a good fight," added another voice, recognizably deeper this time. Sanada Genichirou, the Emperor of Rikkaidai. "You've done really well on polishing up, Echizen-kun."

Ryoma smirked. "Nanda, I never thought I would hear the Emperor give out a compliment. To me, nonetheless," he smirked, catching Sanada off-guard. Yukimura repressed a laugh.

Atobe slipped into the conversation. "Are you getting soft, Sanada? Ahh, that won't do, will it?"

Sanada and Ryoma snapped, "Atobe, shut up."

"Neee, Mura-buchou, when can we start practice? I don't want to stand here any longer, we've waited long enough for these people," whined a voice from behind Yukimura. The said captain turned to reveal a pouting, moody Kirihara Akaya.

"_Yukimura-buchou_, Akaya," Sanada automatically corrected. "Say it with me. Yu-ki-mu-ra-bu-chou."

"He won't say it, Sanada-fukubuchou," Marui snorted, popping his gum. "He'll never say it."

"Not if I have a say in the matter," Niou muttered under his breath, refraining from raising his voice or his hand at Akaya in front of Yukimura. Yukimura was an ultimate figure in their group, and so no one ever dared to go against Akaya, who held a considerably amount of somewhat maternal attention from Yukimura. "But I really don't."

"We'll be leaving soon, Akaya," Yukimura amended. "Just a bit longer, okay?"

Kirahara pouted, but nodded nonetheless.

On Kabaji's back, a certain sleepyhead started gaining consciousness and falling back from dreamland, rubbing his eyes sleepily and pouting at the noisy environment. Jirou blearily looked around, yawning and stretching as Kabaji let him down.

"Huh? Where am I?"

"Eto, you fell asleep on the bus, Jirou-senpai," explained Choutarou kindly. "We just met up with Seigaku, Rikkaidai and Fudou for the team practices, remember?"

"Huh? Ohhh," Jirou nodded in sleepy comprehension. He turned around. As his sight crossed Fuji and Marui, he leapt in joy, immediately awakening. "Fuji-san! Marui-san! Woohooo, I get to meet two of my idols today!"

The said sleepyhead darted forward in a great feat of speed, stopping in front of Fuji and bouncing expectantly. Fuji greeted him and gave him a pat on the head. The Serve and Volley specialist sort of reminded Fuji of a dog, awaiting a master's recognition. Just then, the said player bounced off to Marui, who apprehensively greeted him as well. Marui was not as open as Fuji when it came to Jirou's energetic awake persona.

"Eto, seishounen-tachi, we need to get this thing goiiiing," hummed Nanjiroh. "That's enough for the greetings, I still need to explain lots of things to you guys."

The attention all shifted towards Nanjiroh as the four reconciled teams toned down and stopped talking to listen to the coach.

"Saa, I'll make this simple. For a whole month starting today, you four teams will train together in a specialized training program I organized," announced Nanjiroh.

"To think that you could actually organize something like that is unimaginable, oyaji," Ryoma bluntly stated.

"Hora, seishounen, where did you think you got that good head from?" Nanjiroh chortled. "Add to that the good looks, and the charm, and the tennis skills, and the—"

"Whatever, just continue!" snapped Ryoma hotly, restraining himself from pouncing on his father.

Tachibana apprehensively raised an eyebrow. "Are they always like this?"

"Hai," sighed Momoshiro. "Always."

"It's kind of amusing, though," Fuji added.

"Were you saying something, _Fuji-senpai_?" Ryoma asked, burning eyes turning on Fuji.

Fuji chuckled. "Nandemonai yo, Ryoma-chan," Fuji amended, placing a soft hand on Ryoma's head and mussing the mass of dark hair slipping through his fingers. Ryoma wasn't allowed to wear caps during classes, so the boy actually wore it only during off-class hours. But right now, they just came from class, and the boy didn't have the cap on. Fuji liked exploiting that opportunity to mess up his hair. He looked cuter.

Ryoma pouted, slightly leaning into Fuji's touch as he turned back to his father, who was speaking already.

"Hyotei's Tarou-sensei entrusted me with these guys for a month," Nanjiroh continued, motioning towards the Hyotei team. "And Rikkaidai and Fudou both don't have coaches, but captain-coaches. The captains agreed, so that's that. No more questions need to be answered regarding those matters."

"What kind of training will we be undergoing?" asked Shishido curiously.

Nanjiroh smirked. Ryoma's eyes widened, recognizing that face.

"O-Oi, oyaji, masaka! Come on, you can't possibly be—!" Ryoma stuttered, catching the whole crowd's attention.

"What's wrong, Ryo-chan?" asked Fuji.

"It looks like Ryoma already has an idea of what we're going to do, ne?" Kawamura pointed out.

Nanjiroh snickered. "It's _exactly_ what you're thinking, seishounen. The very same training I made you go under when you were 5 years old, this time only adapted to your age. Meaning it's _harder_. _Way_ harder."

"For crying out loud, oyaji—!" Ryoma exclaimed in horror. "That training gave me nightmares for two years non-stop!"

"That was only because you fell off," pointed out Nanjiroh bluntly.

The young Echizen flushed in embarrassment. "Still! Making me go through that kind of training again—!"

"Ah, come on, you can deal with it," Nanjiroh waved off. He turned to the other players. "You'll find out what we're going to do once we get there. I've planned out everything and noted everything we need, as well as the places where we'll be training and the facilities we'll be using. This was initially planned as a one-and-a-half-week activity, but the schools decided to extend it to a month. All expenses paid by Kei-chan here."

"Oi, I'm the only one allowed to call him that!" snapped a certain yawning sleepyhead, making Atobe chuckle.

"This week, all of you will meet up here on Seigaku grounds. The second week will be on Hyotei grounds, third week on Fudou grounds and fourth week on Rikkai grounds. But that doesn't necessarily mean we're training on campus," smirked Nanjiroh. "Everything's been arranged. And also, I would like to note that you can go to the meeting places using buses and transportation. Otherwise, no buses allowed. The schools also approve of this—don't ask how—since the sports season is approaching soon, and of course, schools are eager for wins. They've agreed to release you guys during lunch."

Eiji and Gakuto cheered at the same time, before stopping abruptly, glaring at each other, harrumphing and stalking off to their partners' sides. Oishi and Yuushi both heaved sighs.

"Also, after our team officially becomes the Seigaku varsity team, we will add some people into this training program. Fudou will have to add theirs too. You guys are still short of members, am I right? There are only five of you, Tachibana, Ibu, Kamio, Sakurai and Ishida. I know that you're not yet picking out regulars since the year just started and new members are still joining, but you'll need to do so and finish it before we are announced as the official team."

Tachibana nodded. "I've heard that Taichi Dan from Yamabuki has entered Fudou, and from what we're seeing in his performance, he'll most probably make it into the regulars. We only need two more."

Nanjiroh nodded in approval. "That's good, then. You'll need to introduce these three new members to me after we win the game with those losers back in school."

"Is this really that special?" voiced Momo.

"It's that _hard_, Momo-senpai," Ryoma deadpanned. "You don't want to imagine it."

Eiji shivered at the tone of Ryoma's voice. Ryoma never spoke like that. He must be really spooked by this upcoming training month.

"But isn't this a bit sudden?" Kawamura pointed out. "What about our parents?"

"Don't worry, Taka-chin," grinned Nanjiroh. "I've talked to your dad, and he allowed me to take you, just as long as you brought some special fish home to make some special sushi when you can."

"Ah, sou," nodded Kawamura, worries relieved. "Arigato."

"No problem!" Nanjiroh chuckled. "Saa, I will allow you guys to go home for a while to get some of your clothes and stuff. We meet in front of our house one hour later! And Atobe, no buses."

"But how are we going to get 'there', wherever 'there' is?" Kirihara asked clueless, still in his big baby mode. They were all thankful for that; Kirihara in demon mode was not a nice sight.

"All of us here have _feet_, Aka-chan," Nanjiroh pointed out.

The coach-in-charge smirked as faces morphed into different levels of horror.

* * *

Momoshiro groaned, dragging himself higher up the beach as the waves started rising up to his tired, sore feet. It was around seven in the evening, and they just finished into the eighth day of the hellish training.

Actually, it was a miracle they all lasted through those eight days of absolute terror and hell.

Ryoma was actually right; they only knew a _pretext_ of what was to come when they experienced their first day of training with Nanjiroh before this team stuff. That training was _heaven_ compared to this.

A groan came from further down the beach.

"Anyone has ointment?" came a rough, tired voice, recognizably Tezuka's. "I think I cramped my right calf."

"In my bag," came a muffled reply from a face-down, dead-tired and worked-out Ryoma. "Left pocket, the one with the red racket keychain."

"Nee, ochibi-chan, can I have some too?" came a soft, almost inaudible whisper from Eiji, who was leaning against a silent Gakuto and a knocked-out Marui.

"Mmm," Ryoma hummed in agreement, his face still buried in the towel draped over the sand of Atobe's private 5-kilometer beach strip on Odaiba, Tokyo Ports. He didn't even have the energy to raise his head off.

A soft hand reached and rolled him over, turning his head up so he could have fresh air. "Don't suffocate yourself, Ryoma-chan," Fuji smiled, stroking Ryoma's jet black hair shimmering under the moonlight. Fuji placed a small, endearing, chaste kiss on Ryoma's lips. Ryoma faintly gathered the energy to smile. Fuji was pushing harder and harder at him, towards him.

Right now, thirty sweaty, exhausted, dead-tired players all were draped all over the beachside, too tired to pick themselves up, clean up, take a bath and get themselves decent sleep on a decent bed. They didn't even have the energy to drag themselves home.

"Aoyagi-san," addressing the elderly head maid of the Atobe manor on Odaiba Bay. "Can you please prepare a bath for these kids as well as a place to sleep? I don't think they'll be making it home tonight without any unwanted incidences."

The elderly maid nodded in approval and immediately shuffled, barking commands at the lesser maids.

"'Mura-buchou, I don't want no more," whined Kirihara, snuggling up to Yukimura, who was tending to Kirihara's stiff shoulder muscles.

Yukimura didn't answer; he simply placed a soft, extremely motherly kiss on Kirihara's temple as he continued kneading the shoulders lightly to relieve some of the tension gathering there.

"That's about it for today, I don't think you guys can go any farther," smirked Nanjiroh. He liked pushing these kids to their limits and seeing them overcome those barriers one by one.

"I'm glad you're not blind enough to miss that," grumbled Ryoma.

Nanjiroh ignored this. "So. Tomorrow, same menu."

This received collective groans, moans of pain, whines, whimpers and sighs.

Nanjiroh resisted the urge to laugh. To think that the "elite tennis teams" of high school Tokyo could be reduced to such weaklings under his tutelage was absolutely hilarious. He now knew that the 350-dollar digital camera he bought was worth it, because he got snapshots of all the things these guys went through the entire day.

"You guys will be running the same 50 kilometers on this beach, meaning ten laps back to back, in the morning. Then you'll be doing your 100 push ups, then your 200 sit ups, then your 200 pull ups. And then we'll be adding something new," he announced, receiving even _more_ groans. "100 short crunch jumps _in water_. And we'll be increasing the weights by 5 kilograms, which will make it 35 kilograms. Afterwards, each block's special training. And then after you finish that, do the sit ups again, and the push ups again and the 50 kilometer beach run. Then it's over."

"Gosh, you make it sound so easy," Gakuto sighed, still panting for breath. "I wish it was."

"Come _on_, you can take this," snorted Nanjiroh, waving it off. "Ryoma took this training when he was five, only a lesser version fit for the age."

Ryoma subconsciously shivered in Fuji's arms. Somehow, Fuji had managed to pull the younger boy up into his arms, cuddling him like a small toddler as they sat on the towel at the beach under the moonlight. Fuji placed a soft, comforting kiss on top of Ryoma's head, making the boy purr. Akaya looked at the pair and snuggled closer to Yukimura, enviously pouting. HE wanted to be the ultimate baby. Someone was stealing it from him.

"Why are you pushing us so hard like this, sensei…?" Choutarou asked half-consciously. Shishido hushed him and pushed him back to sleep.

"When you have limits," Nanjiroh started. Ears turned to him, rapt with attention. In the duration of the five days they've spent with this man, they knew that despite the perverted and extremely idiotic show, there was a wise spirit underneath all of that. They listened to what Nanjiroh had to say, and the man had gained their respect. "You have to overcome them. And the only way to overcome limits is to push yourself _up _to that limit and push _harder_ until you break that wall. After that, you'll find another wall. Now you need to push towards that the same way and break it again. That way, you'll continue to grow stronger."

Nanjiroh took a chug out of the beer he was drinking as he sat crouched on his heels at the top of the three-step stairs leading down to the sand beach. He overlooked the heads of the players splayed down across the expanse of the beach, the moonlight and the light from the manor behind them the only source of light present. The city lights a few kilometers away in Odaiba proper and Tokyo Bay twinkled surreptitiously, tempting them to come.

Unfortunately, they could not.

"I don't see any one of you breaking at that point yet, so we're not stopping," Nanjiroh said.

There was an immediate reply. "Someone please break at that point already!" called out Momoshiro and Eiji. Kaidoh hissed. Even the endurance player was knocked out. Inui was also slumped against a beach chair beside Kaidoh. Jirou was fast asleep on Atobe's lap, drained and exhausted than ever before.

Tachibana tended to Shinji's cramped wrist, massaging it gently in soothing circles and trying to rotate and twist the joint to relieve the swelling and the muscle pain. "Nanjiroh-sensei, is it safe to have painkillers?"

"No, don't," Nanjiroh warned. "Don't. Painkillers are only for unnatural pain. This is natural work-out muscle pain. Endure it. Painkillers will have negative side-effects on your body. Professionals refrain from using them especially after matches."

Nanjiroh walked over and helped Tachibana with the cramped wrist.

Even Kabaji looked really exhausted, the expressionless hulk Atobe had for a follower and a loyal servant.

Atobe sighed, leaning his head back against the beach chair and cradling Jirou's head on his lap, while playing absently with the soft, light hair, twisting and twirling it around his fingers.

Tezuka finished applying the ointment on his calf and moved over to Fuji and Ryoma, who were still cuddling. He sighed and simply sat beside them, basking under the peace after their hell.

Ryoma shut his eyes and thought about the past five days and how fast it flitted past. His father had organized the thirty of them, thirty players, into 10 blocks. Each block had three players. Each block was organized according to ability and/or personality, just like his father had previously explained. All blocks had to go through a _basic training menu_ before going into their unique _special training menu_ designed just for that particular block. Then they were required to wear weights everyday, even to school, and the only time they were allowed to take them off was during baths.

He was quite in luck, though. He was blocked with Fuji and Tezuka in A1. They were dubbed the "Pillar Block". Atobe was with Sanada and Yukimura on Block A2, dubbed the "Elite Block". B1 consisted of Momoshiro, Jirou and Choutarou, the dubbed "Friendly Guy Block". Tachibana, Kirihara and Oishi were all in B2, while Inui, Yanagi and Yuushi were all in C1.

Kaidoh, Kamio and Shishido were on C2. Jackal, Shinji and Hiyoshi were on D1, while Ishida, Kabaji and Kawamura were all in E1. In E2, Yagyuu, Niou and Sakurai were stuffed in.

What shocked them, though, is the D2 Block.

_Eiji, Gakuto and Marui._

All together.

It was chaos all the time with those three. They argued non-stop about nonsensical, childish things, sometimes queer too, like teddy bears, toothbrushes, cakes, candies and underwear. (Ryoma just overheard, so he didn't ask any questions even if his curiosity was piqued.)

Every lunch time after school, they met up at Seigaku and changed gear, and then sprinted off towards Odaiba Bayside where Atobe's beachside manor was located with a very beneficial 5-kilometer white sand beach strip and a small dock for small ships and cruisers. And then from there, hell would start.

They were not allowed to play tennis without permission too, and that was what was painful, really.

Ryoma could see the results, though. Barely, but visible. It was there. They did not notice it much since they were wearing weights that got heavier each day, but every day it was more and more easier to run on concrete, asphalt and cement; solid ground.

Sprinting in the sand was far harder and required lots of effort on their part. Most of them sported splinters in their toes from running too hard in such loose ground with loose leverage. Their legs exerted much more energy and thrust to propel them forward. But if they took of the weights and ran on solid ground, Ryoma assumed it would be like running with no weight at all. This was to improve speed and lower body power.

Wearing the weights everyday got them accustomed to the heaviness of the feeling, and so, he assumed that when they took those weights off, it would be like being free from shackles, and their bodies would be feather-light.

They would be much faster, much stronger and much more agile.

Atobe shifted.

"Ryoma-chan looks positively adorable with that dreamy expression," the rich brat smirked, using the rare endearment with the first name.

Ryoma scowled and blushed, ducking his head back into Fuji's arms. Fuji chuckled and pulled him closer.

"I'm glad you appreciate the beauty of _our_ Ryoma, Atobe, but I would appreciate it also if you would _back off_," Fuji warningly said in a light tone, his eyes still blissfully closed.

Eiji's ears perked up, as well as Gakuto's. Another spat was starting.

Atobe chuckled. "I'm merely complimenting him, Fuji. I'm not doing any harm to him. Surely a compliment is welcome?"

"A compliment is welcome, but the one who gave it is _not_," Fuji icily stated, opening his eyes. The players one by one consciously slinked away from Fuji as the player opened orbs of steely ice blue. Momoshiro could swear the sea froze over seven times. Choutarou, despite his lack of energy, pulled away further from Fuji, taking his doubles partner ("husband") with him.

Surprisingly enough, Tezuka said nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing to stop Fuji from pummeling Atobe seven times to hell, nothing to curb the sadistic aura emanating from the said tensai, nothing to answer the distress signals being emitted by the players nearby. They didn't want Atobe bloodied. In face, they didn't want to see anyone bloodied by Fuji. It would be too… bloody.

But Tezuka did nothing. He didn't eve flinch, change his expression, or move an inch from where he was seated during Atobe and Fuji's exchange. Instead, he kneaded his own calf in soft, circular motions to relieve the cramping muscles from tension, nonchalance evident. It was apparent that he did not care nor did he pay any priority to the current spat starting between Fuji and Atobe.

Ryoma could faintly hear Eiji murmuring to Momoshiro, asking a question he knew only too well the answer to.

"Ne, Momo," Eiji muttered, motioning for the power player. Said player slithered his way on his belly towards the acrobat. "Ne, why is Fuji suddenly so stingy at Atobe?"

Momoshiro shrugged. "How should _I_ know?!" The whispered conversation was perfectly masked by the sea waves crashing against the beach, but Ryoma was pretty sure they were still audible.

"Are there rumors or speculations we can divulge?" a curious Renji asked, as he and Inui leaned into the conversation as well.

"That's the problem, there's nothing!" hissed Gakuto.

"There's currently no data regarding this matter," Inui concluded. "From which we can conclude that research of our own is necessary."

"I agree," Renji nodded severely. "Information gathering is never in vain."

Inui nodded twice, readying his notes.

Kaidoh raised both eyebrows. "Inui-senpai… you still have enough energy to gather your data?"

"Mochiron," grinned Inui, procuring a glass of Betelgeuse. "Betelgeuse is good for the body and replenishes strength imme—"

"_Put that away!_"

Ryoma ignored the whispered conversation in favor of his thinking brain as he remained still and comfortable in Fuji's warm, comforting arms, which were slinked gently around his lower back and his shoulders.

He knew all too well why Fuji was behaving like this.

Stupid Atobe.

Three days ago, about a day and a half into their torture training, Eiji came up with the wild idea of a party. The sane (scared) people in the group ignored this idea of his, but suddenly, Fuji agreed. Atobe agreed. Gakuto even agreed. Jirou cheered for it. Tezuka remained impassive, not complaining with the idea. Even Sanada conceded.

And so, it was decided.

A party.

And during that party, something extremely off the hook happened that drove Fuji into ballistic mode.

Ryoma clearly remembered that night.

_"Godammit, Atobe, what the—" _

_He was cut off as lips crashed and pushed hard on his, hard and demanding, the taste of lime and alcohol flooding into his mouth as Atobe's tongue plunged in and plundered unfound territories. Atobe's hands pushed the smaller boy against the tiled wet shower wall, the towel around the boy's waist thankfully tight even against Atobe's persistent hands. Said hands slid sensually down the younger boy's sides and around his lower back, teasing the flesh and kneading muscles in circles. _

_He clawed at the taller man's back, pushing him away and leaving a long, red scratch mark on the porcelain white, flawless skin. _

_"—fuck do you think you're doing, shithead?!" roared Ryoma. _

_Atobe smirked. "You taste absolutely delicious, little prince." _

_"Darn it, I—" _

_Atobe pushed him yet again into the wall, but Ryoma tilted his head aside, directing the seeking lips of the drunken older young lad to his neck. He growled, kicked, struggled, pushed and flailed in Atobe's strong grasp, but all was in vain. Atobe held height and weight advantage. _

_"Get off!" yelled Ryoma, his voice resonating through the tiled walls of the bathroom. "Get OFF me, Atobe! Dam—" _

_"Ryoma?" called out a gentle voice recognizably __Fuji__. Footsteps. "Ryoma, are you—" _

_Fuji cut himself off as his eyes snapped open at the sight before him, his anger absolutely flaring within him. He darted forward, wrenching Atobe forcefully with alien strength Ryoma never knew he possessed. In fact, no one would ever _guess_ he possessed such strength, with that frail, feminine figure of his. __Fuji__ pulled the half-naked Ryoma against his chest protectively as Atobe's back crashed into the opposite wall quite forcefully, his head hitting the wall with an impact that knocked him out. _

_"Are you alright? Did he hurt you at all? What did he do to you? Ryoma, tell me!" Fuji urged, his hands on Ryoma's shoulders, resting there firmly and reassuring the panting younger teen. _

_Ryoma spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The goddamned fucking monkey king pushed me in here. I think he's drunk," Ryoma growled lethally. His eyes spat fire at the unconscious Atobe, unpitying. He didn't seem shaken at all, though. In fact, he seemed to be more angry than shaken. __Fuji__ mentally deducted that Ryoma was no stranger to intimacy, but didn't like intimacy without proper permission from both sides. _

_"_ _Fuji__, what happened in here?" came a worried voice, as Tezuka stepped into the bathroom, pulling the door open. "What happened to Atobe? You didn't do anything, did you, __Fuji__?" _

_Fuji__'s eyes still held burning fire as he looked straight at Tezuka. The captain frowned. __Fuji__ was rarely in this mood. He was _very_ angry. "_ _Fuji__?" _

_"He tried raping Ryoma while the kid was showering," __Fuji__ explained calmly, but barely suppressed rage made his voice shake slightly. _

_This statement shook Tezuka. The captain was speechlessly staring at __Fuji__, trying to discern if the tensai was lying or not. It was apparent. This was the truth. Tezuka's face hardened. _

_"Ryoma, are you sure you're alright?" Tezuka asked in a firm voice. _

_Ryoma nodded, still glaring at the slumped form by the opposite wall. "Hai. He didn't get too far. Fuji-senpai came." _

_"He's drunk," __Fuji__ mentioned. _

_"Drunk or not, this is unforgivable," Tezuka stated firmly. "We'll talk to him later when he regains proper consciousness, Ryoma. No need to worry." _

_"You'd better," the boy grumbled. "Just don't let this slip to the others. I don't want to cause unnecessary commotion. It would ruin my reputation, as well as Hyotei's." _

_"Ah, pity, I was thinking of that as the punishment for his crime," __Fuji__ smirked sadistically. _

_"Oh, I'm sure you can find some other creative way of punishing him, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma smirked. "I can help you with that." _

Ryoma glared at the sand beneath them at the memory. That particular incident still made his blood boil. Well, it should. And what added fuel to the fire was that when Atobe woke up, he neither felt sorry nor _said_ sorry for what he did. He even seemed proud and eager to pull Ryoma and "own" him.

Ah, well, Ryoma was pretty sure that won't happen as long as he was with Fuji and Tezuka. The two were the only ones who knew, and the two would protect him without words, that much he knew.

He turned his head towards Tezuka, ignoring Atobe's comment again. Tezuka was still trying to relieve his cramped calf, massaging the rippling muscles beneath the pallid porcelain skin slightly and naturally tanned by regular sun exposure.

"Does it hurt much, buchou?" he asked silently.

"Not as much as it did earlier," Tezuka replied shortly, wincing slightly as he tried flexing the muscles.

"Alright, who else needs medical attention?" Nanjiroh yelled from near the foot of the stairs leading up to the mansion.

"Buchou's cramped his calf!" yelled Ryoma.

"Cooooming!" Nanjiroh yelled back, finishing with Shinji's wrist, which was now effectively relieved of the cramp. All he needed was rest and one-hour rehabilitation tomorrow.

The post-training exhaustion recovery went on for about thirty more minutes, before the lot finally managed to pull themselves up and get their asses into the house to take a bath and rest up for tomorrow's torture.

* * *

"Ne, oyaji, you've been busy today, haven't you?" noted Ryoma, bouncing the tennis ball using the side of his racket without looking at it. It was the day just before the competition. The ninth day. They had just finished training, and were all still staying in the Atobe manor, having no choice since they were in no condition to bring themselves home and not fall asleep while crossing the street.

"Ahh, yeah, being a coach is taking its toll on my sleeping hours," agreed Nanjiroh, scratching his left calf with his right foot while balancing himself on one foot. He stuffed his hands into his long-sleeved brown robes, looking up thoughtfully at the star-studded beach night sky. "But it's better than doing nothing. At least I'm not bored. And I can get to watch this yaoi soap opera people call elite tennis teams of Tokyo," he added in an undertone.

Ryoma shot Nanjiroh a reproving glare. "Keep a leash on your mouth, will you?"

"And you, take that leash off your hormones, will you?" Nanjiroh shot back immediately. "You're _fifteen_, for goodness' sake, the _prime years of your youth._ Enjoy it!"

"By what, parading myself naked?"

"That's one idea."

"Urusai."

A chuckle.

"I love you too, son."

Ryoma scowled deeply, stopping what his hand has been doing regarding the bouncing ball on the racket and catching the said yellow ball, clutching it firmly in his hand—so firm, in fact, that his fingernails started turning white and denting the ball.

"Hora, have mercy on the poor ball, seishounen!" Nanjiroh chortled, before tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. "'Taku, how long are they gonna take?"

"Dad, it's only been thirty minutes since we left the school," Ryoma exasperatedly pointed out.

"Still!" Nanjiroh shrilly complained like an impatient child waiting for its mother to feed him.

Ryoma dropped his head in his hands. "I wish mom was here to keep you at bay."

"Speaking of your mom… did she say when she and Kevin would arrive?" asked Nanjiroh.

"Nope, not yet," Ryoma muttered, lifting his head again and playing with the ball on the ground. He could feel his father's probing stare at him, and for some reason, it unsettled him in that way that he knew it was about something serious. He looked up. "What's wrong?"

"When you get together with your boyfriends, meaning Syuu-kun and kid cap'n, I was just wondering how you'd deal with Kevin," Nanjiroh indifferently asked. It was quite obvious that this façade of nonchalance was fake, though.

"Kevin?" Ryoma asked clueless, titling his head to the side. "What about him?"

Nanjiroh stared his son in the eyes for a while to seek if the kid was lying. Finding no traces of lies in those honestly glistening pair of inquiring golden orbs shining with hidden determination, Nanjiroh groaned. "You know what? Sometimes, you're just not the tightest string in the racket when it comes to these things, Ryoma. Makes me want to believe what Inui said—you're quite socially stunted."

Ryoma frowned. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with my best friend, or are you going to continue poking and prodding at my already wounded pride?"

Nanjiroh chortled. The boy had a way with words. "Although I'd say the latter is definitely more amusing," he answered, making the boy hiss aggressively like a cat. "I'll tell you about the former," Nanjiroh continued.

The older of the two looked back up at the sky, his next words expressing wisdom indubitably gained from years of experience.

"You see, when you get into an intimate relationship with Syuusuke and kid captain, you won't be able to remain the same way you are with Kevin. Things will change, Ryoma. I'm sure you realize that, don't you? I want you to consider that before you decide on anything. Permanent damage can be dealt, and Kevin might just be on every receiving end."

Ryoma trailed his gaze on his father for a few seconds, before dropping his head.

"I know," sighed Ryoma. "I told Kevin about it already."

"Yeah, and you were pretty harsh about it too," snorted Nanjiroh under his breath.

"You were _eavesdropping_?!" Ryoma snapped hotly.

Nanjiroh held his hands up. "I was just passing by when I heard you talking, boy. And your phone was on loudspeaker mode."

Ryoma grumbled, averting his eyes. "It was a bit weird. He approved far too quickly, as if he'd already thought things over. As if he expected this to happen," Ryoma muttered, eyes cast down. He smiled a wistful smile. "I keep on saying to myself I'll do my best to make Kevin happy and stay by his side as a loyal best friend and brother, but sometimes, I can't help but think that I'm the one hurting him."

This was rare, for the both of them. Either of them really never opened up, and as such, this was a rare occasion. There were times when they were like this, when Ryoma actually let his walls down and let his father in, just about the only person in the world who managed to get as close as that except Kevin. His father was his pillar, so to say. His father was his support. Deep down, even if they didn't admit it out loud, their bond as father and son was tougher than any other bond Ryoma's ever known, and he's silently proud of that. He knew that his father would be there, always.

"Maybe you should dwell on that last thought a bit and mull it over," suggested Nanjiroh. The older man desperately wanted to tell Ryoma about Kevin's feelings, which the blonde personally confessed to the older man long ago. It was a long secret story, but a secret story nonetheless, a story for another time. "You're happy with Syuu-kun and kid captain, and I'm sure he understands that. Just make sure that by being happy, you're not hurting him too much."

"Not hurting him too much?"

Nanjiroh nodded. "There's no way you can't hurt another person," Nanjiroh pointed out, crouching beside the sitting Ryoma and patting the boy's head fatherly. "No matter what you do in life, in some indirect way, you're hurting another person. Regardless of how or why or what aspect is being hurt, you're hurting that person. But the least you can do is to lessen the pain, right? No one can live without pain, but there's a certain degree to where a person can tolerate pain. Everyone's wishes cannot be granted at once, Ryoma. Not at once."

Ryoma took a moment to stare at his father, who was looking up at the sky contemplatively while still patting his head. Then the boy looked down on the grassy ground, marveling absent-mindedly on the contrast of a yellow tennis ball against a green lawn. "Thanks, dad."

"Anytime," Nanjiroh smiled. "Now go get your ass in bed, brat," the father shooed, pulling the young teen up and pushing him back into the manor, stealing the racket and the ball from the smaller, smoother hands. "You've got school tomorrow."

"And a competition."

Nanjiroh slapped his forehead. "I keep on forgetting."

Ryoma snorted at his father's childishness. But despite that, he knew that he loved his dad and for him, he was the best dad in the world ever.

He would never admit that aloud, though.

* * *

**Tsuzuku

* * *

**

THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE ACTUAL COMPETITION, FOLKS! AND A SURPRISE IN THERE FOR YOU GUYS TOO. Full explanation of what happened in this chapter in the next chapter and the eleventh chapter.

**Note:** **Ratings will be going up soon. _Scenes will get MUCH more intense than what you just witnessed back there._ There was a proper warning in the first chapter. **I just wanted to notify you. For those who are uncomfortable with yaoi (I know there are quite a lot of you reading this yaoi story even if you're not yaoi fans, you guys), if you want, you can skip the parts with these yaoi scenes. I am not forcing you to read, nor will I place too much things that you might miss. I will try hard and explain everything. **If there are questions, please feel free to ask.** **The review button is waiting below.**

**Kiasidira Ixari  
**_12.05.06 _


	10. Step Ten: Brat Prince Number 2

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Yesh, people, you saw that right. I now have a co-writer! Tria-chan has gladly agreed to help me write this developing story that's receiving a lot of high expectations from readers, and I really appreciate the help. And god knows, I need it too.

**Note:** There was a reader who asked something about why Sumire was there in the council meeting… well, see, the Middle School and the High School are _sister schools_, and so, they have a unified council. It's that way in some schools in Japan.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimers apply.

**Warning(s):** Right. **Yaoi** **alert.** Not for the sensitive. Nothing really explicit, but there are… some things that are not for people who do not sport yaoi.

* * *

**Step Ten: Brat Prince Number Two**

* * *

"Ryoma." 

A groan.

"Ryoma."

Silence.

"Ryoma, wake up."

Another groan.

The awake occupant inside the room released a long suffering sigh, eyeing the small lump on the pristine white bed in one of the rooms in Atobe's beachside Odaiba Bay manor.

"Ryoma, come on, wake up," Tezuka sighed, trying to coax the boy out of slumber, which was proving quite challenging. He sat down on one side of the bed and lightly but firmly shook the lump.

The boy groaned louder, the tuft of black hair tinged with a strange yet alluring emerald green moving slightly as the figure rolled under the coverlets of the duvet bed. An arm was thrown stretched across Tezuka's lap.

Tezuka sighed even deeper, dropping his head. Never did he imagine in his life that _the_ Echizen Ryoma was _this_ hard to wake up in the morning. Of course, looking back at his recurring tardiness, he should have expected it; but he never really gave it much thought, having been intently focused on improving the boy's play.

"Ryoma, _wake up_," Tezuka said firmly, pushing the coverlets down to expose a half-naked Ryoma sprawled haphazardly across his bed. The boy was blissfully asleep, his face the expression of complete relaxation, a small contented smile curving on his soft lips. Perfectly tanned, soft skin was out in the open for all to see.

Tezuka resisted the _incredibly_ overwhelming urge to run his palms down that small chest and feel the soft skin quiver under his touch. He mentally shook himself. This was not the right time to think these thoughts. There was a time for that, and that time came later.

The captain moved down over the younger player and pulled him upright by his shoulders, resulting in a loud whimper of complaint and furrowing eyebrows in annoyance.

"Mmm… whu…?" Ryoma incoherently moaned, blearily blinking his eyes open, before deciding to let them droop and close half-way again, leaning against the warmth he was feeling from in front of him.

Tezuka caught the smaller frame in his arms, sighing. He patted the boy's bare back lightly. "Ryoma, time to wake up, come on," Tezuka coaxed in a gentle voice.

"Buchou…" whined Ryoma pitifully. His arms slinked unconsciously around Tezuka's neck, and his legs fastened themselves around Tezuka's lower back, pulling the small frame flush against Tezuka's chest. The contact took Tezuka's breath away. Literally. "…'m still sleepy…"

Ryoma sighed, snuggling his head under Tezuka's chin, just enough to tuck himself into the comfortable crook of the captain's shoulder. He purred at the warmth, sighing, unaware that the breath he released slithered down Tezuka's throat, electricity against the sensitized skin.

Tezuka's mind was starting to go into a haze, but he caught himself in time. He placed a soft hand at the small of Ryoma's back, gently rubbing firm circles to wake the boy.

"Ryoma, you need to wake up," Tezuka told him.

Ryoma whined even more, proving to be _real_ difficult. He squirmed against the elder's grasp, producing pleasant friction, sliding skin against thin cloth almost baring skin. Tezuka's breath caught in his throat as he waited for Ryoma to level himself steady again. As the boy calmed down, Tezuka sighed in relief. He wasn't sure if he would be able to completely control himself. Here they were.

In a room.

All alone.

Sitting on a bed.

How ideal.

The captain sighed and picked up the haphazardly strewn shirt across the bedside table, apparently taken off during sleep because of the sweltering tropical sea heat. He pushed Ryoma away from his chest, ignoring the whines and moans and pulling the shirt over the boy's head.

Ryoma blearily decided to concede and open his eyes.

Finally.

"Buchou…?"

"You need to wake up now, Ryoma."

Ryoma nodded. "Hai…" he yawned. But instead of standing up, he leaned back against Tezuka, who internally sweat dropped.

Tezuka sighed and conceded himself. He firmly hooked an arm around Ryoma's lower back, supporting the smaller teen's weight, before hefting the boy up as he stood. Ryoma instinctively tightened his hold around Tezuka's neck and shoulders, burrowing his head deeper into the young man's neck.

Tezuka walked out of the room, heading down the hallway towards the stairs and descending the steps carefully one by one, trying hard not to trip and injure the both of them. As he descended the last step and turned the corner towards the dining, the lively morning chatter of four teams welcomed his ears.

He walked into the hall, receiving glances as the people noticed his baggage.

Eyebrows raised and mouths curved up in guffaws and amused chuckles.

Fuji smiled and stood up from his seat, moving forward and walking towards Tezuka, who stopped short before reaching _his_ own seat, which was beside Ryoma's. Ryoma was in between Fuji and Tezuka. All the time.

Tezuka carefully cradled the precious bundle in his arms as Fuji came and placed a hand on Ryoma's now clothed back, cooing into Ryoma's ear, "Time for breakfast, little one."

From the other teams' vantage point, the three looked like a normal, happy family. _Anyone_ could mistake Fuji for a girl, what with that gentle smile, the soft voice and the extremely motherly affection he seemed to hold towards the youngest boy in the ranks. Meanwhile, Tezuka provided the perfect father image; dependable, strong, responsible, and firm. And of course, the youngest boy had his own bouts of childishness, stubbornness, maturity, and babyish moments that seemed to paint the perfect picture for the three of them.

In his seat, Akaya's pout elongated as Fuji extricated Ryoma from Tezuka's grasp and took the younger boy into his own arms. The said Rikkaidai player slunk closer to Yukimura, who in turn chuckled and placed a pacifying kiss on the younger's cheek. Akaya still pouted but leaned into Yukimura's open arms nonetheless.

Fuji settled Ryoma down on his seat with minimal difficulty and maximum grace, sinking back into his own seat beside the still groggy boy. The tensai leaned over and placed a kiss on Ryoma's cheek, making the boy subconsciously smile lightly, before yawning and stretching.

Ryoma rubbed his eyes. "What's for breakfast?" he asked blearily.

"Protein-plenty food," Fuji replied in a merry, light tone, spreading melted butter on Ryoma's spinach omelet and adding some more bacon to the side of his already teeming plate. "Plenty of energy for today's competition. Eat up!"

"Nyaaa, ii na, ochibi-chan," Eiji sighed enviously. "He gets first-rate treatment from _every_one, especially Fuji and Tezuka. And he's practically immune from everyone else since he's protected. It's almost unfair."

"Whaddya mean it's _almost_ unfair?" Gakuto snorted, using his fork to cut a piece of his omelet. "It's **super** unfair!"

"Sou, sou," Momoshiro nodded almost incomprehensibly, as he was currently _inhaling_ the food. "He gets—_snort_—too much fa—_snort_—vor!"

"Ewww, Momo, don't do that!" Eiji recoiled.

"Ahou," Kaidoh deadpanned. (_t/r: Ahou means Idiot.)_

"Baka ne, Momo-senpai," Ryoma slowly, groggily remarked like a child, eating his food in a turtle's pace. The remark earned him a sharp glare, but _any_one could tell that the young one was dead on his feet, still submerged under sleep.

"Ryoma, if you don't hurry up, we'll be late," reminded Fuji. "Eat up, eat up, you still need to shower and get prepared, right?"

"Ne, Fuji's like a mother," Eiji pointed out bluntly.

"Well, thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Genius," Gakuto mocked, earning a sideways death glare. The two elapsed into another one of their daily morning fights, with the occasional inputs by Momoshiro or Marui, who was across them.

The three redheads' daily fights were common things in the manor. Everyone would consider it doomsday if a day lacked a single fight. There was an average of 37 fights a day, occasionally dropping or raising depending on the mood and the energy levels the redheads retained through the training, and it also relied on the topic of the fight.

Marui would always stand in the middle of everything, always neutral in opinion, while Eiji and Gakuto always remained on opposite sides of the circle. It would be _another_ doomsday if _ever_ the two sided together. It was near impossible.

Ryoma slowly gained pace with his food, his mind finally ridding itself of the comforting lull of sleep and emerging into the waking world. He wolfed down the food, remembering that he hadn't had much dinner the previous night, and that he needed his energy refill for the game today.

The game today!

His head snapped up and he dropped his fork, startling Fuji and Tezuka, who both swerved in their seats towards the boy.

"Ryoma?"

"Excuse me!" Ryoma managed through the food in his mouth, gulping down half his glass of water in one go and rushing up the stairs. "I'll be back, no one touches my food!" he called back as his back disappeared further into the hallway.

There was apprehensive silence.

"What's up with him?" wondered a perplexed Akaya.

"Ore-sama has a faint suspicion," Atobe started.

"No one's asking you, Atobe," Fuji bitterly snapped, voice dripping with hostility. Tezuka yet again remained emotionless, detached and indifferent, not even seeming to hear the starting spat between two of the considered elites in the ranks.

"And I'm answering no one," Atobe snapped back.

Fuji opened his eyes—much to everyone else's absolute terror—and was about to shoot something back at the dubbed _monkey king_ when Ryoma came flouncing down the stairs, before plopping back into his seat.

He returned to his food wordlessly, looking more awake and alert, yet holding no significant physical difference from five minutes ago. The clothes remained rumpled, the hair remained unkempt.

"What was that about, Ryoma?" asked Tezuka, forehead creasing slightly.

"Nothing," Ryoma shrugged. "I just forgot to do something last night."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow but let the matter slide as his eyes caught a glance of the wall clock. It was ticking towards eight in the morning.

"Minna, finish up," he turned towards the table, clearly addressing his teammates. "You have one hour to prepare. We're leaving by nine."

There was the sound of increased jostling over the food and decreased chatter as the teams hurried to finish their breakfast. The competition was scheduled at ten this morning, and as such, the whole school would probably be there to witness it. Tachibana, Atobe and Yukimura had promised their presence, but they all needed to present themselves to school first and excuse the team before going to Seigaku.

"You guys don't need to bother and go, you know," Ryoma snorted through his food, catching the attention of the whole table. "It'll be finished before you arrive anyways."

Momoshiro smirked. "Gaki… is that alright, boasting right out of the bat already?"

"It's true," shrugged Ryoma. Eiji was bouncing in agreement, and the rest of the table simply chuckled, used to the boastful honesty Ryoma possessed.

* * *

The whole school was in an uproar. The tennis club—the most highly held sports club in the school—was having a match with _another_ tennis team. A newly formed one. And whoever loses would be ousted, the winner proclaimed as varsity. 

No one ever expected these were the bets over the fight. It was far too big and extraordinary of an event that almost everyone actually skipped classes and rushed over to the crowded tennis courts to watch the game. Some spectators settled for the windows in the building nearby, and some settled with binoculars on the roof.

But everyone wanted to watch.

Especially if there was a Wimbledon winner competing in it.

The whole school board was there, sitting in a line at the most prime position on the third level bleachers, the whole court premise in their plain view. No one ever took the _current_ tennis club seriously, and they were extremely surprised to see the number of students willing to watch the matches. Even though the tennis club was the highest funded, it wasn't in the highest standard. (Now, everyone knew whom to blame for _that_.)

As the morning reached ten, the official tennis team, consisting of Akita, Takeda, Nori, Ruichi, Yokubou, twin second years named Hirako and Hirami, and another senior named Takaya. They entered the courts amidst murmurs and loud intrigued chatters.

"Now that's pretty rude," one junior voiced. "Supposedly, if there's a challenger, the challenger should enter the courts first before the challenged comes."

"Isn't this like a slap to the face or something?" snorted another voice.

"For a sportsman, it is," nodded a guy who was known for being in the basketball team.

Then there was even louder chattering, loud cheering and welcoming claps as the challenger team came, led by a firm Tezuka. The rest of the team closely followed behind, faces all set in expressions of complete and absolute determination.

The team entered the courts, all wearing plain white jerseys to maintain a symbol of unity. They all settled their bags down on the bench seats, completely at ease and full of confidence. This was something they could do without stressing themselves out.

Still—as their beloved captain was fond of quoting—they can't afford carelessness.

The referee clambered up the umpire chair and called for the two teams to line up, signaling the start of the competition.

It was decided that Inui was not playing in this competition, therefore the dataman remained standing by the benches just at the edge of the bleachers. This court was not the usual court style with seven-foot metal net fences, but the competition-style courts where the court was lower than the actual bleachers by about four feet, and thus guaranteeing viewers prime view of the matches.

Seigaku was used to hosting exhibition matches and inter-school competitions, and that was why there were courts designed like this for the special fights. The ordinary courts were still there, though, used for practice and normal matches.

The two teams lined up at the center, separated by the green net waving slightly with the breeze passing through the open court.

Fuji smiled, tilting his head back. "Ah… perfect conditions," he grinned.

"For your Hakugei, ne?" Ryoma muttered, nodding as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

Just then, Nanjiroh came waltzing into the courts, whistling a happy tune as his hands remained tucked into the sleeves of his brown monk robes. The referee did a double take.

"Oi, you!" the referee called, making Nanjiroh look up. "Non-players are not allowed in the courts!"

Nanjiroh raised one eyebrow. "But surely the coach is?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking you to get off the courts, sir," the referee tried to say politely. "Only coaches and players are allowed in."

"So I have the right to be here after all!" Nanjiroh grinned, placing both hands behind his head.

Before the referee could throw another scathing remark at the man dressed in monk robes, Kurenai-kuchou spoke through the microphone.

"Referee, this is Echizen-san. He is the standing coach of the challenger team," she announced, much to the surprise of everyone.

Murmurs erupted, and the chatter turned up even louder.

"A _monk_ as a coach?"

"Are they crazy?"

"I tell you, man, they are _out_ of their _minds_."

"They must have been _real _desperate."

"Challenging the team and now _a monk as a coach_…"

"…they're really crazy…"

"They'll get steamrollered in this…"

"I admit, our team's not national standards, but an amateur team can't just win it, can they?"

Ryoma cocked an eyebrow at the edible whispers the crowd was passing through one another.

"I thought they favored you guys," he remarked, looking up at Oishi, who was on his left side.

"They do, but they're doubtful," Oishi chuckled, ignoring the glare that came from Yokubou, who was across him.

"It's normal. The tennis team here is strong too, just not as strong as what _you_ and _me_ would expect, Ryoma-chan," Fuji explained, placing a hand on top of Ryoma's capped head. "The tennis team members know who's going to win, though. Look at them."

Ryoma's eyes flitted towards the opposite side of the bleachers, where the other tennis team members were sitting, half-heartedly cheering for their home team. He could plainly see hope flickering in those faces, and he could practically hear their minds cheering for _them_, not for the home team. These members wanted a _new_ team.

Ryoma smirked. _Well, your lucky stars granted your wishes_.

Kinouyama-sensei entered the courts. She was the Phys. Ed. teacher, and she often stood as the coach for the team when they competed, but she did not really govern the practices and whatnot. She was simply an ornamental head.

"Captains, shake hands!" the referee called. Akita and Tezuka reached out and shook hands. From Ryoma's point of view, though, they looked like they were trying to outlast the other and crush each other's hands. He was satisfied to see that when Tezuka let go, Akita covertly flexed his hands _very_ slightly, but enough for his sharp, golden eyes.

He smirked.

The teams walked away from the net, Eiji bouncing his way to his seat giddily, as if unaffected by the tension heavily hanging in dredges over the court.

"We will now start with Doubles 2," announced the referee. He looked down to the clipboard in his lap. "Home team: Nori-kun and Yokubou-kun!"

Nori and Yokubou both stood up with their rackets. Ryoma grimaced at the familiarity with which the referee referred to their names. It made it seem like the referee was biased and was siding with the home team. Then again, it could be just his imagination.

"Challenger team: Momoshiro Takeshi-kun and Kaidoh Kaoru-kun!"

Now this time, it was more formal and proper. Ryoma frowned. It was _not_ his imagination. He wanted _so badly_ to throw a ball at the referee's head.

"Yosh, Momo-chan, Mamu-chan, go down there and wake them up!" Nanjiroh childishly cheered, punching one fist up in the air while still sitting down on the coach bench with his legs crossed. Behind him were the players benches, where the rest of them sat.

"Go, go, Momoshi! Go, go, mamushi!" chanted Eiji, playfully banging an empty bottle of coke against the coach bench in front of him.

"Eiji, hush!" Oishi reprimanded, snatching the bottle from the hyper redhead.

"But, Oishiiiiii!" complained Eiji, his voice overriding the whole crowd's whispered conversation. "I want to _cheer!_ Since _no one_ is cheering for us, _I will_! Everyone else is _afraid to cheer because of the other team, so I will **cheer on my own**_!!"

Oishi sweat dropped. "Not as loud as _that_…"

"If it's not loud, it doesn't mean anything because no one hears it!" Eiji positively screeched. "GO MOMO! GO KAIDOH! MOP THE FLOOR WITH THEIR FACES!!!"

Just then, a voice from the crowd interrupted. "Momoshiro, mamushi, you heard your senpai! It would be rude to disobey!"

Kamio grinned from the top of the bleachers, backed by Tachibana, Sakurai, Ishida, Shinji, a boy with very light blue hair and piercing all over his ears, another boy with shocking yellow hair grinning from ear to ear, and one boy with white hair—whether that was natural, Ryoma wanted to ask—and green, twinkling, mischievous eyes on a scowling face. They all looked like freshmen.

"I hope we aren't too late, Tezuka," Tachibana said, descending towards the edge of the bleachers near the team. The crowd made way for them as murmurs once more flitted their way through the spectators.

"It's Fudou Koto!"

"What are they doing here?"

"They know the challengers?"

"Wow, they look strong…"

"They're not as strong as Midorigaoka, though…"

Ryoma sighed, the _whispers_ of conversations in plain audibility.

"No, you're not late," Tezuka greeted, standing up and shaking hands with Tachibana. Tachibana did a turnaround and motioned for the three young freshmen who were with them.

"These are our new regulars," Tachibana introduced.

"Oka Shinichi," the blue-haired kid plainly said, looking bored.

The blonde nudged him. "Hey, don't be like that, Shin," the boy said. "I'm Aoya Asuka! Pleased to meet you!" he exclaimed boisterously. Then he caught sight of Eiji. "Ahhhh!! Eiji-senpai! I'm _soooooo_ like a total idol of you!!! Your Seal Step is THE BEST!!" the boy positively screeched, latching onto Eiji and making Ryoma wince.

Eiji remained unperturbed and grinned widely. "Deshou, deshou? I'm the _best!!_ Buiii!!"

"Oh no," groaned Shinichi. "Two sugar high maniacs."

"Kairou Toushi, pleasure," the white-haired freshman said in a clipped tone. Apparently, he was in a not-so-good mood.

Then, another cheerful voice called out.

"Fuji-saaaaan!" called a bouncing Jirou, prancing his way down the stairs and up to Fuji, who smiled and greeted the eager sleepyhead. Shortly behind Jirou followed Hyotei and—to the whole crowd's surprise—the champions, Rikkaidai.

Well, actually, _ex_-champions. Midorigaoka stole the throne after all.

Atobe flounced down the stairs in all his glory—Ryoma choked—followed obediently by Kabaji and the rest of Hyotei. Rikkaidai followed behind them.

"Yokatta, we aren't late," Yukimura smiled. "Tezuka, good luck. We'll be rooting for you."

"Arigato," nodded Tezuka.

"Now, don't you _dare_ lose, Tezuka," Atobe warningly chided. "That's unacceptable. We _want_ a _real_ Seigaku team to be there at the Nationals."

Tezuka and Atobe stared each other down as the crowd's whispers grew louder and wilder.

"Do you even _know_ who you're talking to, Atobe?" Ryoma snorted, his chin cupped in his hand as he leaned his elbow on the coach bench in front of him. "That's _Tezuka-buchou_ you're talking to, _the _Tezuka-buchou whom _I took so long to defeat_, _the_ Tezuka-buchou whom _I didn't defeat as easily as I defeated you._"

Atobe smirked. Oh, it was _so_ easy to provoke the young one.

"There is _no harm_ in voicing your thoughts, Ryoma-kun," Atobe pointed out. "It's actually better that way. I'm just _making sure_ there is a _Seigaku team_ in the Nationals. Or else it will be boring as hell."

"Don't worry, Atobe, rest assured, we'll mop the floor with _their _asses," Ryoma snapped back, jerking his head towards the other team who were glaring holes through them. If glares could ignite and if they could burn easily, they would be ashes by now. "And then we'll kick _your_ butts and claim the championship _again_," Ryoma smirked.

"_Now_ you're speaking, gaki," Momoshiro chuckled.

"Fssssh, I like that idea," Kaidoh nodded.

"I'm game, I'm game!" Eiji eagerly bounced.

"Oh, we won't let you win so easily," Yukimura warned, still smiling. It eerily reminded Eiji of Fuji's smile. "Right, Genichirou?"

Sanada nodded, smirking.

"Then I'm looking forward to facing you again, _Emperor Sanada_," Ryoma smirked. "Or, even better, facing _you_, Yukimura-buchou."

"Same here, Echizen-kun," Yukimura said, his smile widening even more. Nanjiroh remained seated and speechless through the whole ordeal, simply smiling lightly.

"Oi, are we going to start the fight, or are you guys going to chatter off over there all day?" Yokubou snapped rudely. He threw a glare at the referee, who quickly recovered from shock and called out the start of the game.

"One set match! Challenger service!"

"Yosh, mamushi, let's do this!" Momoshiro grinned. Kaidoh nodded, taking his place at the middle line while Momoshiro took his place on the service spot. Wasting no time, the power hitter pulled out a ball, tossed it high up, bent back and let go, his body springing forward and his arm hitting the ball at the prime moment on the prime spot.

The sharp shotgun sound of the ball being hit startled some of the spectators as the ball whizzed a yellow blur across the court and bounced off, untouched.

"15-love!"

"Don," Momoshiro grinned.

The game went on quite uneventfully as Kaidoh and Momoshiro continued pulverizing Nori and Yokubou. Surprisingly, the two managed to steal two games from Momoshiro and Kaidoh, but Ryoma pointed out bluntly that it was obvious Kaidoh and Momoshiro were both not being serious.

They were still playing around.

As they finished the fourth round, Momoshiro nudged Kaidoh. "Mamushi, have you forgotten? We have to show off for the board."

"I know," Kaidoh hissed back. "Alright, give me an opening."

Momoshiro grinned. "Leave it to me."

Momoshiro executed a perfect fake, observing the opponent's reactions carefully. He shot the ball in such a way that made the opponent volley it back towards the right corner. Momoshiro made a run for it, leaving the left side open intentionally. Nori smirked and hit the ball towards the left but—

"Mamushi!" called Momoshiro.

Kaidoh darted towards the left side, lowered his racket, picked the rising ball up and returned it back in a whirlwind of yellow.

"15-love!"

"Fsssshhh…"

"YEAH, TORNADO SNAKE!" Eiji yelled, jumping out of his seat. "It's been _so looooooooong_ since I last saw it!"

"They're showing off, aren't they?" Toushi, the white-haired boy from Fudou remarked, startling the others. He's been silent since they arrived.

"They_ must_ be," shrugged Shin. "There was no need for that… what was it? Tornado Snake? Yeah, that."

"They're showing off for the board," pointed out Inui.

"Oh."

The game was ended quite quickly, with 6-2 in favor of the challenger team. Momoshiro came back grinning with his arms behind his head, while Kaidoh followed, hissing with his eyes closed.

"Good work, Kaidoh, Momoshiro," Tezuka appraised.

"Aa, but these weights are _killing me_," Momoshiro groaned as he sank into the bench, fingering the weights strapped around his wrists. They looked like ordinary wristbands though.

"Weights?" echoed Shin, Toushi and Asuka.

"Weights," nodded Nanjiroh. "That reminds me… you three are joining the camp too, so you'll have to wear them."

"Ehh?!" Asuka exclaimed. He turned to the nearest person, who turned out to be Atobe, and grabbed his arm. Asuka pulled one weight off Atobe's arm. "Just how heavy is th—IS! No WAY!" he yelled, as he held the weight in his hand. "This is like… as heavy as an elephant!"

"Asuka, you won't be able to hold it in your hands if that was as heavy as an elephant," Toushi bluntly pointed out.

"Still—"

The conversation was about to go further, but the referee called. "Home team: Hirako-kun and Hirami-kun! Challenger team: Oishi Syuuichiro-kun and Kikumaru Eiji-kun!"

Eiji bounced forward eagerly, racket in one hand and Oishi's wrist in the other.

"E-Eiji!"

"Yosh, let's go, let's go!" he cheered, practically dragging his doubles partner to the net, much to the amusement of the crowd. As the referee called for the handshake, Eiji split into two.

"Yoroshiku!" chimed the twin Eijis in front of them, grinning fancily before flashing similar 'V' signs.

Hirako, who was in front of him, did a double take.

There was silence over the crowd.

…

Kurenai-kuchou rubbed her eyes under her glasses. "_Two_…?" she wondered aloud.

Sumire chuckled. "They really haven't changed a bit."

Eiji grinned proudly. He was able to shock the whole crowd. "Hunya, I shocked the crowd! I'm the _best_!"

"Kyaaa, the _best_!!" screeched Asuka, turning into his fanboy mode.

Ryoma sweatdropped. "_Anyone_ would be shocked with that, Kikumaru-senpai."

Eiji ignored him, rejoining into one and bouncing toward his position as Oishi sighed and walked towards the service spot. Oishi bounced the ball on the ground, before tossing it up in the air and hitting it with measured precision and pinpoint accuracy. When it came to Oishi, precision and accuracy was nothing.

The game started as the ball was returned and Eiji started moving, slowly laying out his net play.

* * *

"**_Dammit, where the hell was it again?_**" grumbled a small, lithe figure as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, looking left and right. Clueless and estranged, he struggled to remember the instructions he was given.

He weighed his options.

Option One: Call home.

But of _course_, no one would answer, because no one was _home_. Having taken an earlier flight in his eagerness to arrive earlier and see the matches, he arrived far earlier than his supposed companion.

Option Two: Call _him_.

But of _course_, he _can't_, because he could be in a match and then no one would answer. Or _they_ would answer, but he didn't want that.

Option Three: Ask around.

But it would be easier if these people stopped avoiding him or sending him querying glances every time he made a move.

Option Four: Stay lost.

Now _that_ was _not_ an option. He did _not_ waste precious money just to miss what he came early for.

He sighed, dropped his head and turned to option three.

_Here goes nothing._

* * *

Ryoma sighed, dropping his head as Eiji bounced in glee, having won the game 6-4. The twins Hirako and Hirami were good, and Fuji told him that Tezuka was already thinking of pulling them into the team. They would be good support for the doubles after all.

This sealed it: they would be the official team in less than an hour.

_But…_

He frowned, removing his chin from his hand and looking around the crowd, his eyes scanning faces and waiting for a hit of recognition.

None.

_…where the hell is he?_

His frown deepened even more.

_Why do I have the feeling that he's lost? _

He snorted inwardly.

_Of COURSE he's lost, how could he not be? He's the _worst_ when it comes to finding places and following instructions. _

"Singles Three! Home team: Takeda-kun! Challenger team: Echizen Ryoma-kun!"

The crowd broke into loud whispers, cheering, eager catcalls and murmured rumors as his name was called out. He sighed, dropping his head even lower. Oh, how he hated fans.

He stood up and stretched his back languidly, feeling several bones crack into place. He yawned along with it, before he bent back down and unzipped his bag, rummaging inside for a familiar red racket inside that was easily found and taken out. As he checked the string tension, his ears couldn't help but pick up snippets of the crowd's conversations.

"That's him, that's him! The champion!"

"…he's so _small_…"

Ryoma's eyebrow twitched visibly. Fuji giggled.

"…is that really him?"

"Yeah, that is, look! He's in this magazine!"

"…he's so damned confident…"

"I _would_ be confident, if I were him…"

"…yeah, being a Wimbledon champion and all…"

"Isn't he only a freshman?"

"…that makes him all the more cooler!"

He winced at the high pitched squeal from a group of girls to his right. His eyebrow twitched two more times—three, before he sighed and pushed his temper down, twisting the racket experimentally in his right hand before he relaxed his shoulders and walked forward towards the net.

His eyes scanned the crowd again for a flash of light blonde.

None.

"Now, don't lose, Ryoma-kun," Atobe called.

"I don't need you looking over my back, monkey king," he snapped.

"Ryoma. Let's not be careless," Tezuka said.

"Hai, buchou," Ryoma nodded obediently.

"Good luck, Ryoma-chan," Fuji's gentle voice called out.

"Domo," nodded Ryoma, smiling slightly. Fuji's voice brought him unprecedented comfort every time.

He turned and walked all the way towards the net, facing Takeda, who was at _least_ a foot taller than him. That was what he thought as he looked up, avoiding cricking his neck.

He couldn't help but wonder what a tall person was doing playing tennis instead of doing basketball.

He sighed and frowned as he re-scanned the crowd yet again.

Fuji noticed this behavior and frowned. The tensai took a glance towards Tezuka, who saw his action and frowned as well. The very slight downturn of the captain's mouth was unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but Fuji caught it, being the usually overly observant and perceptive person he was. Ryoma was searching for something… or someone.

The game started quite uneventfully for the spectators.

Ryoma did nothing extraordinary. He didn't do smashes, flashy tricks, any of his techniques. He returned the balls, sure, but there was no energy behind them. He didn't exploit any of the _three_ chance balls and let them pass, and he didn't exploit the _huge_, gaping _holes_ in Takeda's play.

He did nothing whatsoever.

In fact, he kept on _missing_ the balls.

"40-love!"

Takeda smirked from the other side of the court as Ryoma failed to catch up to the extremely slow ball that was lobbed across the court.

There was silence as Ryoma turned his back on his opponent and walked back to the receiving post.

Fuji's frown deepened. Ryoma was evidently doing this on purpose. Those balls were far too obvious to be missed. Ryoma was not the type of person who would stall or miss without a reason.

_What are you waiting for, Ryoma?_

Tezuka sighed, folding his arms over his chest and apparently deciding to wait and see what Ryoma has in mind.

"Is he doing this on purpose?"

"I _thought_ he was a Wimbledon champion…"

"…is he stalling?"

"What would he be stalling for, idiot?"

"…maybe he's studying his enemy."

"That could be it."

"Nooooo!" Horio wailed from the bleachers. "What is he _doing?!?_"

"Ryoma-kun, hurry up and finish it!" called out Kachiro.

"He can finish this in like _five minutes_!" Katsuo groaned.

"What's wrong with him?" Tomoka groaned. "Ryoma-kuuuuuuuuun!"

"Ryoma-kun…" Sakuno whispered worriedly.

Ryoma ignored the calls, flipping his racket as he moved into position. Takeda served the ball quickly. Ryoma's foot twitched in its place, the reflex to chase and catch the ball kicking in, but he did not move to retrieve the ball. He overrode his instincts.

Fuji opened his eyes, catching the faint telltale movement. The boy _was_ doing it on purpose. Behind him, Atobe snorted, Sanada sighed and Yukimura chuckled. Tezuka simply closed his eyes, a faint crease on his forehead disappearing. Apparently, he was not the only one who noticed.

The boy had a reason, and all they had to do was trust him. Trust the boy and wait.

"1-0!"

There was silence.

Ryoma lost a game in straight points.

Eiji was about to wail out loud when a strong voice yelled out.

"_ECHIZEN RYOMA, WHAT THE **HELL** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!_"

Heads whipped towards the direction of the voice.

A young man with blue eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair—a foreigner, apparently—stood there, eyes burning and staring a hole right through Ryoma. He wore simple shorts, sports shoes and an open jersey over his red-and-white shirt underneath. Brown-tinted sunglasses perched securely upon the bright blonde head, and a huge bag—a tennis bag—slung over a slender, muscular shoulder.

Ryoma chuckled.

"Took you long enough. Where've you _been, _idiot?"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

Hu-weeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Cliffie _again_!!! You guys can guess who that is, right? Nyeheheh...

I LOVE cliffies.

**Kiasidira Ixari**  
_12.11.06 _


	11. Step Eleven: Seigaku Returns!

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

**Quite a lot of people were asking me if the chapters would be up in half the time** since I now have a co-writer to help me. Awww, come _on_ guys, I update like, every four or five days! Isn't that enough? That is, for me. And besides, I still write the bulk of it. Tria-chan does the editing, polishing and beta work for me, as well as contributing ideas to the plot.

So I'm still writing the main bulk.

**From Aventria:** I'd also like to remind you guys that we both have lives. Kia and I have exams, projects, labs, essays, etc. to do for school, especially during the end of semesters, like now. We also have family obligations we cannot dodge no matter how hard we try. We like our free time as much as the next person and we aren't totally bitch hermits, although it may seem that way. And we need our sleep. We apologize if you find that the updates are slow to your standards but Kia (mostly) and I will not slave away on it more than we already are. We think once every four to five days is sufficient enough. Be thankful it's not once every month or something.

Zannen, munnen, mata raishuu!!

**Note:** **Ryoma's** **Cross Split****Serve/Smash is like the smash the one in the Live Action Movie CinePuri** (for those who've watched it)**, the smash that Kanata-kun (Echizen Ryoma) did in the last match.**

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s):** None so far.

* * *

**Step Eleven: Seigaku Returns!**

* * *

Kevin's hands gripped at the railings tightly, his knuckles turning white as he ignored the cat-eyed boy's comment. The scowl on his handsome features was very pronounced as the sharp tone of his voice sliced through the heavy silence of the crowd. Gone was the babyish fat rounding his face, shed through growth and continuous strenuous workouts. 

Gone was the burning hate fueled by old, bleeding wounds from his past, hurting him and pushing him to hurt as well. Gone was the cloud of spite covering his eyes, his face every time he saw his rival.

All that was left was pure love and adoration for the certain boy who remained oblivious.

But right now, those feelings were masked with exasperation and frustration.

"Did you _just_ lose a _game _in _straight points_?!" Kevin growled. "I can_not_ believe you, Ryoma! Be _thankful _you're in the court right now or else I'll already have strangled you to death!"

Ryoma rolled his eyes skyward. "It's just _one game_, Kevin, I'm not losing."

Kevin wanted _so_ bad to claw at his well-kempt hair. He stomped his foot childishly. "But _stiiiiill!_ I would have accepted it if it was someone _stronger_, but _man_, for _you_ to lose a game to someone like him—! Unacceptable, Ryoma, you're ruining your _image_!" he all but screeched.

"Alright, alright, I get the point, Kev!" Ryoma exasperatedly sighed, holding both hands palm up quite awkwardly—he was still holding his racket—as a sign of surrender. "I was just waiting for you, you stupid ass. Did you get lost?"

Kevin was stumped.

He sheepishly chuckled, anger draining away as he scratched the back of his head. "Well… kind of."

"Didn't I give you the instructions _just_ this _morning_?!" Ryoma exasperatedly snorted. He forced himself not to laugh out loud.

"You _know_ I'm no good at instructions!"

"You're really funny, you know that?"

"Shut up and serve, idiot," grumbled Kevin, stalking darkly towards Nanjiroh and the others. He lithely leapt over the railing and landed catlike beside Nanjiroh. The bleachers weren't as high as it looked, apparently. "Ji-chan, ba-san took the flight that left this morning, so she won't be here until later."

_(t/r: Ji-chan/Ji means Uncle. Ba-san/Ba-chan means Aunt.)_

There was momentary silence, before the crowd started murmuring once again, assumptions running wild. They apparently were curious as to who the blonde foreigner who spoke smooth Nihonggo was. True, Kevin _did_ speak Nihonggo smoothly like he was a native, but it was nothing to be awed of.

Nanjiroh grinned. "Ou, brat prince number two!"

"_Don't_ call me that!" whined Kevin as he stopped near the other teams.

Atobe was the first one who approached. "Well, well, look who's here. Kevin Smith."

"Ah, _monkey king_," Kevin shot back, smirking and getting out of his dark mood. Here was a perfect opportunity for fun. "Ryoma showed me your picture when you were bald. I kind of like that hairdo. Want help redoing it?"

"Funny, Ryoma-kun said the same thing," Atobe remarked flippantly, shoving the underlying insult away. "But I don't need the hairdo."

"Too bad," Kevin drew out, heaving an incredibly honest disappointed sigh. "I would have _loved_ shaving you bald. Ah… one of the pleasures Ryoma had the chance of stealing from me."

Atobe seethed.

Kevin smirked, looking back towards the courts, where the game was once again starting. Ryoma had apparently heard the whole conversation and was sporting a satisfied smirk on his face, similar to the one Kevin wore.

"Ne, Ryoma," Kevin called. "Show me your perfected Cross Split Serve again, will you?"

At the mention of the new technique, heads turned curiously.

"What's in it for me?" Ryoma challenged, raising an eyebrow at Kevin while he bounced the ball, getting into service position. He adjusted his grip on his racket.

Kevin rolled back on his heels, tipping his head back thoughtfully.

"Hmmm… a fourth of my monthly supply of Ferrero Rocher?" offered Kevin.

"No deal, I want two fulls," smirked Ryoma.

"Ass," Kevin cursed. "Half!"

"Nope, Kev," Ryoma shook his head, waggling his index finger as he held the ball with the rest. "One full. And a Lindt hamper box."

Kevin groaned. "Fine! Deal! I'll order you a month's supply straight from Italy _and _Switzerland, jerk!"

Behind Kevin, Momoshiro balked. "Straight from Europe?! Just how _much_ will that _cost_?! Can't you just order from here?"

"The original is the best," Kevin pointed out. "Now, _my_ part of the deal, please."

Ryoma grinned. "A deal's a deal, then," he smirked, before turning to his opponent with burning, lashing eyes. The smirk widened. "So, then… good luck, Ta-ke-da-san."

Kevin grinned eagerly, leaning over the coach bench. Behind him, he could feel the three teams all eyes, rapt attention paid strictly to Ryoma's every movement. Despite being the absolute center of attention, Ryoma remained unperturbed. This was nothing compared to playing in a court in the middle of _hundreds_—maybe even thousands—of live spectators and _millions_ of TV watchers.

The young prodigy tossed the ball up and leaned back in a perfect form, his back arching in a smooth mild crescent. His knees bent slowly, carefully, gauging the power and the speed of the jump with the precision of an expert. As he let go of the springs held tight in his muscles, he jumped up, twisted his body, hit the ball and twisted his arm rapidly—so rapid it could have been invisible without a trained eye.

The sound of impact was louder and sharper than the sound of a shotgun firing. The yellow ball hit the very _center_ of Ryoma's racket, the center vertical and center lateral strings pushing the tension and the spin higher and higher until the ball actually deformed itself. Ryoma let go of the ball, his arm twisting—lateral and apical at the same time, and even Inui had difficulty comprehending it—in an impossibly measured topspin slice.

The yellow ball whizzed across the court at impossible speeds, clocking over 210kph. Takeda didn't even have time to move an inch before the ball hit the ground. But instead of bouncing, it crawled across the court, carving a straight path towards the wall separating the high bleachers from the courts. Silence hung low above the crowd as the ball approached the wall.

But instead of stopping, it crawled _up_, the speed never decreasing. It crawled up the wall and reached the top, rocketing skywards for a foot or two, before the combined force, pressure, spin speed and contradicting gravity made the ball pop and _split_.

The ball _split_.

The pieces fell down unceremoniously on the court floor and some on the bleachers up top.

There was absolute silence.

The ball was gone in a matter of _seconds_.

Ryoma let go of a small huff and straightened up, tapping the edge of his racket against his right shoulder. He was _still_ playing right-handed.

Fuji stared with his eyes wide open. Atobe was, for once, speechless. Yukimura stared with an almost unreadable expression—_awe_—in his eyes. Sanada looked like he wanted to kick Takeda off court replace him. Tezuka's lips curved upwards in a light cross between a smirk and a smile, eyes twinkling with unhindered and exposed pride.

He was _proud_.

Then Kevin grinned.

"Awesoooome!" cheered Kevin. "It's just as strong as with your left!"

"Of course," Ryoma snorted indignantly. Over the years, Kevin helped him overcome the imbalance in his abilities brought about by the dominance of his left hand over his right hand. "You, of all people, should know that," he said nonchalantly. Then he turned towards the dumbfounded referee. "Referee, call!"

The referee took another few seconds to recover. "A-Ah, h-hai, 15-love!"

Then came the boisterous, overwhelming cheering for Ryoma, brought about by awe, infatuation, and passing affection. Ryoma was tempted to believe that it was even louder than the cheering he received during the Wimbledon Open Finals.

Then again, it might just be his imagination. He _had_ been dead tired after the finals, after all.

Takeda still remained frozen on the opposite court, staring at the carved ball path on the ground.

Fuji, one of the first ones to snap out of the awe, clucked his tongue. "Ahh, Ryoma-chan, don't damage the property too much! We'll be using these courts later too, and it's quite hard to clean up, you know."

"Hai, hai, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma nodded with eyes worthy of belonging to a kicked and tearful puppy, Ryoma pouted. "Demo—"

Fuji smiled, noting the pout. He amended quickly.

"Ah, no worries, Ryoma-chan, you can slaughter your opponent in _any_ way you like. Do as you please. Just don't leave the courts too bloody. It's quite hard to scrub the walls, and even if we manage to remove the remnants, ultraviolet light may still reveal those invisible body fluid stains we failed to remove. We can't let them dirty our courts, can we?" Fuji amended, giggling sadistically behind his hand. The others sweat dropped.

_Ultraviolet light?_ _What the hell?_ Momoshiro shook his head. _Fuji-senpai is really mental._

A brief jealousy, a put-off expression flashed through the sparkling, cheerful blue eyes, but it was suppressed quickly, replaced by the overpowering sunny cheerfulness Kevin characterized.

"Eh, honto?" Kevin turned towards Fuji. The tensai nodded, still giggling. Kevin turned back towards Ryoma. "Ja, Ryoma, do the smash next!! No, wait—do the Q-Serve! Ah, wait, not that, Magnet Balls!"

"Kevin," Ryoma groaned exasperatedly. "You've seen them a _hundred times!_"

"So? I want to see them again!" egged Kevin, being the usual pushy person he is, bouncing on his heels eagerly.

Ryoma sighed and closed his eyes, calling out, "Ne, Takeda-san… you still alive over there? Can I serve now?"

When no answer reached him, he turned and opened his eyes, only to find Takeda slumped down by the net. Funny, the referee did not notice the other player until Ryoma called out.

"Eh?" Ryoma walked over to the net. "Ne, Takeda-san, daijou—"

It all happened in seconds.

Takeda sprang up and swung his racket at Ryoma, who sported a direct hit on the side of his head, the side of the racket colliding painfully with his temple. The skin broke and blood spurted. Ryoma's racket dropped to the ground with a clatter as the boy crumpled on the ground, a hand cradling his bleeding head.

"**_Fucking bastard!!_**" roared Kevin, running forward. The rest of the teams were on his heels, and Nanjiroh exploded from his seat to his precious little champion.

"Ryoma!" yelled Nanjiroh, reaching the boy first. Kevin came barely a second later, leaning over his best friend and reaching over to the side of the head that was bleeding. Fuji came from behind, straightening the boy's back up and running his hand in soothing circles over the shirt.

Kevin removed Ryoma's slightly shaking hand from his temple and winced inwardly as he saw the cut on the skin. "This is bad," he muttered. "This has to be stitched back up."

Nanjiroh growled, running up to the referee. "Forfeit. We're canceling this match."

"No!" yelled Ryoma, his voice cracking. Apparently, he was in extreme pain. A hit on the head that strong was nothing to joke about. "Oyaji, I'll con—"

"Don't be _stupid_, Ryoma!" snapped Atobe, cutting the boy's sentence.

Tezuka supported the Hyotei captain. "Ryoma, Fuji's playing next. We'll win," he pointed out. Then he turned towards Oishi. "Oishi, Kevin says it's pretty bad. Who has a first-aid kit? We'll need to stop the bleeding first before we take him to the infirmary."

"No, the hospital is better, Tezuka-san," Kevin said. "Just to make sure that he doesn't have a concussion."

"Kev, I'm fine…" croaked Ryoma, insisting.

"_No_," Fuji firmly said. "You are going to _forfeit_, and then we are patching you up and taking you to the _hospital_. That's _final, _Ryoma."

Sanada interjected. "You can use our bus. The rest can use Hyotei's bus going back to the manor, if that's ok," he said, looking at Atobe, who nodded in affirmation. Sanada turned to Yagyuu, who nodded and ran off to prepare the bus and notify the chauffeur.

Tezuka pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to Kevin, who took it wordlessly and started wiping away the blood from Ryoma's cheek, dabbing very lightly at the wound. Oishi had already run off towards the infirmary to request first aid.

"Ah!" Ryoma winced, shying away from Kevin's hand and into Fuji.

Another put-off expression flashed across Kevin's eyes, before the boy once again quickly suppressed it. "Ryoma, don't be a baby and come here, we need to stop the bleeding!"

Ryoma groaned as Fuji pushed him back towards Kevin. As the tensai watched Kevin dab at the wound and clean up Ryoma, he sighed. He knew the expression always flitting across Kevin's face whenever he or Tezuka stole Ryoma's attention. He had to hand it to the boy to be able to suppress his emotions this well. The tensai noted that Kevin must really care for Ryoma if he was able to bear this much pain and still come to Japan for the boy even with the knowledge that Ryoma liked someone else.

It was not that Fuji hated the boy. In fact, he actually _liked_ the boy too. Kevin was so much like Ryoma in many aspects, and as such, it was natural for Fuji to be attracted as well. But he felt sorry for the boy. He was hurting inside while he watched his best friend leading a happy life.

That must be real hard and painful.

Strangely enough, Fuji didn't get his sadistic satisfaction at the knowledge that someone is hurt. There was none of the usual twinge of satisfaction, no matter how little. Fuji felt these twinges even during times that he did not _want_ to feel them, even during times when he knew it was wrong, _sick_ to feel that way.

But right now, he didn't feel it.

"How bad is it, Kevin?" asked Nanjiroh from behind the blonde, having just finished talking to the coach of the other team, Kinouyama-sensei.

"Sliced open, oji," Kevin sighed, scowling. He caught sight of Ryoma's eyelids fluttering close, probably from dizziness. "Ryoma, do you feel dizzy?"

"Aa," whispered Ryoma. "God, my head hurts…"

"_Don't sleep_," warned Kevin.

"But I'm sleepy…" whined Ryoma.

"Dammit," cursed Kevin. "Don't sleep, Ryoma, _please_."

"Ugh…" Ryoma groaned. The boy struggled to keep his eyelids open, noting the pleading tone in Kevin's voice. His head spun and ached and hurt _so much_. Everything was black. But in the background, he could make out the noise around him, and he could _feel_; the horrified whispers of the crowd, the hush of the settled wind, Fuji's gentle hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, Kevin's warm, sure hands holding his face up and dabbing at the wound. There was another gentle voice—Yukimura, he assumed—talking to him, telling him to stay awake. He could hear his captain's voice, talking to another voice faintly sounding like Sanada, and another voice—Keigo, he was sure.

"Someone help me move him, please!" Kevin called out. Momoshiro and Kawamura came through, hauling the boy carefully up to his feet. Kevin and Fuji guided Ryoma slowly towards the benches. By now, the crowd's murmurs were getting louder and louder, and everyone wanted to see what was happening already.

As soon as Ryoma was seated down on the bench, Kevin returned to his previous job of stopping the bleeding, and Fuji and Yukimura settled beside the boy, struggling to keep him awake. Sanada, Atobe, Tachibana and Tezuka were deliberating on what was best to do next.

Kirihara's lip curled in anger. Even though he was jealous of the boy for getting all the attention, he was also mad at the other team's Takeda for hurting the boy. Ryoma was considered precious within the ranks, and he was the treasure everyone wanted to protect. Even Kirihara felt the urge to protect the boy.

And he hated players who hurt other players. It reminded him painfully of his old self.

"That was pretty dirty of you, you know!" Momoshiro called, glaring. He looked ready to jump and skin a lion with his bare hands.

"Fssssssshhhh…" Kaidoh hissed aggressively.

"We generally don't like players who hurt other players," Kamio followed, backing Momoshiro and Kaidoh. "We have quite a rocky history with those kinds of people, see."

Kirihara winced inwardly at that.

"Kamio," Tachibana warningly said. "What's done is done."

"I didn't mean anything by it, Tachibana-san," Kamio quickly replied. "I've forgiven and forgotten that," he said, noting Kirihara visibly relaxing. "I just don't like the people who do the same thing."

Ryoma opened his mouth. "Kamio-san…" he croaked out. "Momo-senpai, Kaidoh-senpai… let it go. I'm fine."

Eiji snapped indignantly. "NO! You're _hardly_ fine, ochibi! We can't just '_let it go_'!!!"

"Yes, you _can. _Fuji-senpai will murder them and torture them insane until they plead for death, and Fuji-senpai will do it for me, won't you, senpai?" Ryoma firmly pushed out, before groaning in pain. Fuji nodded in affirmation, eyes already open and burning in barely suppressed rage. Kevin held the boy's face tighter as he pressed a new cloth—a towel—very lightly against Ryoma's sliced temple. "Kev… that hurts…"

"Bear with me, Ryo," muttered Kevin. He was afraid to apply too much pressure; nerve damage was something they could not afford, especially this near the brain. Add to that the high possibility of a concussion, and Kevin is at a loss.

A static sound erupted from the overhead speakers as Kurenai-kuchou opened her microphone. "The council has decided on the matter," she announced, a hush lying over the crowd waiting with bated breaths. "Takeda-kun is formally disqualified from the fight on basis of intentionally harming the opponent. As such, the challenger team wins 3 games to 1, and will take over the varsity."

There was silence.

"YATTA, WE DID IT!!" Eiji screamed at the top of his lungs, jumping up and down in the middle of the court. The ball of energy jumped on Gakuto and hugged the unsuspecting redhead, before moving towards Oishi and grabbing the precision player's arms, whirling them round and round in circles. "WE WON, WE WON, WE WON!"

Oishi laughed lightly with the boy. "E-Eiji, cool it, I'm getting dizzy!"

Momoshiro started laughing, finally registering what the principal had announced. Kaidoh let loose a hiss of breath, a sigh of relief. Inui smiled, before nodding and jotting down data on his notebook.

The crowd started cheering loudly, and the current club members exploded out of their seats and jumping up and down in joy.

But Atobe frowned, crossing his arms, as if expecting something more. He glared holes at the board members, who were still flocking together, discussing opinions. The rich young master started throwing one of his fits again, much to everyone else's suffering. Yuushi sighed and cradled his head as Atobe started.

"Ore-sama **_demands _**retribution! Ore-sama will be suing you to hell and back, making sure that your tenth generation descendants will not even _think_ of owning their own clothes! Ore-sama will personally tell father of this little event and he will make sure every single one of your current and future sponsors **_will_** disassociate from the likes of your filth immediately!" Atobe growled out loud—enough for the council to hear it. The captain stomped his foot childishly and hissed, much like Kaidoh does.

There was silence within the board for a fleeting moment, before intense shuffling ensued. A paper was handed down to the head teacher, who cleared her throat, adjusted her glasses, and started reading.

"Furthermore," Kurenai-kuchou continued. "The current tennis team is permanently and officially suspended from getting involved again in the tennis club."

Silence.

Whispers ran around.

"_What?!_" Yokubou raged.

At that, Atobe relaxed, smirking. He was apparently satisfied with _this_ addition. A bit.

Just then, Yagyuu came back into the courts. "Sanada-fukubuchou, the bus is ready."

Kevin turned. "Ja, someone help me move Ryoma," he called. Momoshiro, Kawamura and Kaidoh all came to support the younger, wounded boy, while Fuji and Kevin stayed firmly by the boy's side. As they moved out of the courts, cheers and applause reached Ryoma's ears.

"Buchou…" he called out in a cracked whisper.

"I understand. You need to go and get that patched up, Ryoma. Leave everything to me," Tezuka quickly replied. Tezuka's voice was deathly calm, but it was nothing to be happy about for the other team. One could call it '_the calm before the storm_'. Tezuka's eyes were visibly shaking in suppressed anger.

"A-Arigato," muttered Ryoma, before Kevin and Fuji pushed them forward again.

"Fuji, call me!" added Tezuka. Fuji waved one hand in affirmation as they moved Ryoma through the entrance to the courts and out into the school grounds, making a beeline for the main gate where the parking lot was.

Sanada, Atobe, Tachibana, Yukimura and Tezuka stood by the courts.

"So," Atobe started. "Tezuka, you'll need to stay and arrange everything that needs to be arranged."

"Aa, I'll stay here," nodded Tezuka. "Oishi will be helping me with the things we need to do," he continued, before turning towards Nanjiroh, who was walking towards them from Kurenai-kuchou with an expression on his face—a cross between worry and smugness. "Nanjiroh-sensei, are you staying behind or are you following after Ryoma?"

"I'm staying," Nanjiroh confirmed. "Ryoma has Kevin and Fuji; they're more than enough. I have faith in those two. Besides, the stuff we need to do won't take too long. We're not starting today; we're starting tomorrow. Recruitment and sign-ups start the day after tomorrow too, and that's basically all we need to prepare for."

"You need to arrange and clean up the locker rooms and the clubroom too," Sanada pointed out, reminding them.

"We'll help," Yukimura offered. "We're formally excused from school for the rest of the day, and since Nanjiroh-sensei is here, we have nothing to do at camp. I'm sure Atobe will help too, am I right?"

"Of course," nodded Atobe, clenching and unclenching his fists to relieve the worry and tension building up in him, coupled up with the pent anger. "I'll call on my butler to send over some people to help with the clean up."

"Then we'll help with the arrangements," Tachibana decided. "We're free for the rest of the day as well. We might as well lend a hand."

"Arigato, minna," Tezuka appreciatively nodded. He sighed, throwing one more worried glance towards the direction where Ryoma and the others went.

"Don't worry, Tezuka," Yukimura amended, placing a hand on the captain's shoulder. "Ryoma will be fine."

Nanjiroh grinned, patting Tezuka and Atobe on the back quite forcefully. If not for his high pride, Atobe would have tipped forward and rubbed his back. He didn't, though.

"That's more like it! Cooperation and teamwork! Captains' five-some!"

Somehow, Nanjiroh's lecherous grin didn't help bring up the right image in Tezuka's mind.

He suppressed a shiver.

* * *

Kevin sighed, washing his hands at the sink in the washroom inside the patient's room where Ryoma was currently sleeping. He gazed over at the snoozing form on the bed, wincing when he saw the white, clean bandages on Ryoma's temple. The doctor said that the wound was a clean cut though, so their promotional manager won't have to worry about scars marring the bishounen's face. Having a handsome face like Ryoma's was an added bonus after all. It brought more money. 

Kevin eyed his clothes. The shirt wasn't that dirty, but the jersey's sleeves were soiled with blood. He shrugged it off, sighing as he struggled to suppress the bursting fury he felt towards Takeda. He honestly wanted to bulldoze the guy; if it weren't for his overpowering urge to stay beside a certain golden-eyed boy, he would have done so already.

Fuji came into the room, closing the door quietly. "Kevin?"

"In here," Kevin called back, being careful not to raise his voice too much.

Fuji weaved his way through the small space inside the room towards the washroom. "I just called them. Nanjiroh-sensei wanted me to tell you that your baggage arrived home already, and he put it up in yours and Ryoma's room."

Kevin nodded. "Thanks," smiled Kevin.

"There's nothing to be thankful to me for," Fuji chuckled.

Kevin cocked his head to the side slightly, curious.

"In fact, _we_ should be thankful to _you_," Fuji continued, leaning against the doorframe as Kevin washed his arms.

Kevin raised a delicate eyebrow, regarding Fuji with a leveled stare. "And why is that?"

"You took care of him," Fuji simply stated. "And you still do."

Kevin instantly knew who the tensai was talking about. Even without saying the name, it was obvious. There was only one person in this world he took care of and loved so much. He looked back down and chuckled, reaching over to the hand towel and rubbing his arms dry. He then removed his shirt. Underneath, he wore a sleeveless yellow shirt.

"You don't need to thank me for that," muttered Kevin. "I take care of him because I want to. It's for my own purposes, not anything else."

"Thank you anyways," Fuji insisted, smiling slightly. There was a pause as Kevin scrubbed the blood out of his white shirt. "You're quite stubborn, aren't you?" chuckled the tensai.

Kevin smirked. "Glad you noticed."

There was a quite awkward silence settling over the two when Kevin paused his scrubbing and bowed his head low, his hair hiding his face in shadows. The meager light of the one bulb in the washroom was not enough to illuminate him completely.

"Ne, Fuji-san," Kevin started.

"Hm?"

"Take care of him," Kevin muttered. It was almost inaudible; a whisper the blonde boy let the wind carry to Fuji's ears and Fuji's ears only. "Take care of him. I'm entrusting him to your hands. Yours and Tezuka-san's. He's already shying away from me, I can feel it. I can't take care of him like I did before. I'll try, but I'm pretty sure I won't get through. It hurts, knowing and realizing that, but I don't mind. You make him happy."

There was silence for a while.

"Just… don't hurt him, okay?" Kevin murmured, sighing lightly. "I… I don't want to see him hurt. Take good care of him. He's precious."

Fuji smiled slightly, placing a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "You have my word. I—_we_ will protect him no matter what. We'll never hurt him."

Fuji thought he saw a hint of a wistful smile around the edges of Kevin's face, or what was visible of it. Then the boy raised his head, a smirk on the now arrogant face.

"You'd better, or I swear on my mother's grave I'll _skewer_ your heads on a poker," threatened the blonde. Swearing on his mother's grave meant he was dead serious.

Fuji chuckled, unperturbed. The tensai was no stranger to threats, given that he was one who frequently threatened others as well. Fuji placed a soft hand on top of Kevin's head, much to the blonde's annoyance.

"Hey!"

"You're a real good friend, you know that?" Fuji muttered, mussing Kevin's hair like an older brother would do to the young ones. Kevin scowled, blushing lightly, the tips of his ears reddening.

"Shut up."

Fuji went on, ignoring the blonde. "For you to sacrifice your own happiness for your best friend's happiness… for you to bear the pain of coming here and seeing him happy with another… for you to bear his oblivious nature… really, I'm impressed."

Kevin snorted half-heartedly, casting his eyes down. "I don't care what happens to me as long as he's happy," he muttered. "I don't matter. _He_ does. He's a rising tennis star, he has lots of friends, he has a family waiting for him to come home every night, and he has a future to look forward to. _I_ don't. He's the one who gave me a life to look forward to. He's important, that's why."

Fuji smiled. "Don't belittle yourself."

"I'm not," Kevin countered. "That's where people misunderstand me. I'm not belittling myself. I just hold him important and because of that, I want to protect him and place him over myself. I place him over myself on my own accord. I don't say that he's greater than me, no. I'm just saying that he's _important_ to me."

"I understand," Fuji nodded. The tensai sighed, casting a look at the lump on the white bed inside the whitewashed hospital room. "You're really a good best friend. I don't think I can do what you're doing if I were in your shoes."

Kevin chuckled. "I'm glad to be able to do something the tensai can't."

Fuji smirked. "Don't get ahead of yourself, **_blondie_**. I just said I don't _think_ I can do it. Oftentimes, I can do what I think I can't."

"Whatever," harrumphed Kevin, pouting at being put off as simple as that.

"I actually feel a bit sorry for you, you know," Fuji muttered. "Ryoma can be really densely oblivious at times, and that must _hurt_."

"It does," laughed Kevin. "But over time, you get used to it."

"Get used to it, or just ignore it and push it away?" Fuji queried sharply, turning his open eyes on Kevin.

The blonde forced down an internal shiver.

"What are you talking about?" Kevin awkwardly shuffled, chuckling half-heartedly as he averted his eyes and tried to pry himself away from the piercing, all-seeing blue eyes.

"You know, it's not good to bottle it all in like that, Kevin," Fuji continued, ignoring the blonde's question. "Ryoma is oblivious, true, but that's why you need to talk it out with him."

Kevin laughed bitterly. "Listen to yourself, Fuji," he shot back. "If I tell him, he'll drop into indecision. I don't want that, it'll hurt him. _You_ don't want that too, do you? And _I_ don't want him to feel _obliged_ to commit to something he doesn't want. He'll have a hard time deciding too."

"How can you be so sure he'll have a hard time?" Fuji asked lightly. "For all you know, he might just decide firmly on what path he's gonna take."

That stumped Kevin.

How _did_ he know that Ryoma will have a hard time? He might have already decided. Hell, it might not be a decision for him at all!

"If I do that, he will…"

"Avoid you? If you're really sharing a strong bond, he won't avoid you. True, it'll be uncomfortable the first few days, but it'll subside. And you'll at least get it out of your system."

Kevin stared down indecisively at the sink, the hot water still running over his hand and soaking the already soggy shirt.

"I don't know," he muttered, his head hanging low. "I don't want him gone. I don't care if he's not with me the same way he is with you. I just don't want him gone. Being a replacement is okay. Being a substitute is okay. Being a simple friend is okay. Just as long as I'm with him. Just as long as he's here."

"A replacement… a substitute, huh," Fuji repeated. "So you'll settle for that?"

Kevin smiled bitterly. "Better than nothing, ain't it?"

"More painful for me."

"For you, Fuji, for you."

* * *

"Yadda."

"Ryoma, stop being so stubborn."

"_Yadda_."

"Ryoma…"

"_YADDA!_"

Ryoma clamped his fingers—right now, Kevin saw them as claws more than anything—tightly down the sides of his seat, remaining stubbornly inside the van. The young tennis star was released from the hospital right after he woke up. The doctor patched him up quite quickly after he was brought in, and right afterwards, he was given a strong dose of sedatives, sending him to dreamland for a whole day. He woke up as fit as a fiddle afterwards.

"Ryoma, get down here right _now_!" snapped Kevin.

Well, not really.

A whine. "_Yaddaaaaaa!_"

True, Ryoma was released from the hospital, since the doctor claimed that he is completely fine. All he needed was rest and nutritious food to recover the blood loss from his wound. His wound was stitched up cleanly and was hidden under a patch of clean, white gauze. The doctor cleared him and allowed him to play light tennis for today, and then rest for twelve whole hours. By tomorrow, he would be able to train and play tennis as he used to.

But earlier, while they—namely Ryoma, Kevin, Tezuka and Fuji—were heading out towards the parking lot where the reserved van—courtesy of Atobe—was parked, Ryoma swayed. Literally. He claimed that it was nothing; it was just his leg muscles turning into jelly from being inactive for 24 whole hours. And that was true, really. But of course, knowing the three worrywarts he was with, he didn't expect them to believe it.

And they didn't.

Which led to the current predicament he was entangled in right now.

The van's door was slid open, and three people stood by the door. Kevin stood expectantly outside of the van, hands on a slim waist, foot tapping against the concrete of the pathway leading up to the entrance of the Atobe family's Odaiba Bay manor. The boy's blonde hair whipped in the midday sea breeze, but miraculously, the sunglasses remained in place. Beside Kevin stood Fuji, who was sporting the same expectant expression the blonde boy was. Tezuka was walking towards them from the house, having just dropped off the bags from the back of the van. The other players were expectantly waiting by the manor's wide open grand oak doors.

And then there was the freaking. Bloody. _Wonderful._ Wheelchair.

"Ryoma, come on, it won't hurt…"

Ryoma groaned. "Oh, I'm _sure_ it won't _hurt_ me _physically_!" Ryoma grumbled. "But it will _certainly _hurt my _pride_!"

Kevin guffawed. Well, almost. He knew that Ryoma's pride was a sensitive topic—so was his, and so he could relate—but he just couldn't help it. He passed off his guffaw as a half-disguised snort and turned away.

"Ryoma, we just don't want to repeat what happened yesterday, see," Fuji explained, trying to coax the boy. "Now come on, it's just a short distance."

"YADDA! There is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY in HELL I am riding a wheelchair!"

Tezuka's mouth quirked upwards the very slightest of a millimeter.

"You won't get on the wheelchair?" Tezuka clarified, leaning slightly against the van's door.

Ryoma answered spontaneously without a single thought of doubt. "Not in a million years!"

"Then we'll have to settle for something else, won't we, since you're being pigheaded again," Fuji sighed, catching his captain's drift.

"Eh—what­­—_buchou!_" Ryoma all but screeched.

Well-toned arms wound their way clumsily around a certain bespectacled captain's neck. Tezuka swept Ryoma from the van's seat, easily cradling the slightly smaller form in his arms safely. The said captain was currently smirking—ever so slightly, because the captain absolutely refused to show an identifiable smirk—while cradling a cat-eyed teen in his arms. Ryoma gasped unguardedly, gripping his arms tightly around Tezuka's neck for fear of being dropped. Tezuka was quite tall, and it was quite a drop. He _so_ did not want to end his tennis career by damaging his femur.

His arms wound quite tightly around Tezuka's neck, and he adjusted his grip as he squirmed in his captain's grasp. He didn't even notice the older man had already started walking back up the house. Neither did he hear Fuji's camera snapping away madly; or Kevin's hearty laughing at his obvious blush; or the others' catcalls from the front door.

All that his brain registered was the warmth of the arms cradling him against a solid chest. All he felt was the warm breath tinged with mint fanning across his cheek and down the sensitive column of his neck, slithering against his skin. Heat coiled inside him like wildfire concentrated on one place. He unconsciously snuggled his face against Tezuka's neck, feeling the captain's breath hitch for a moment, before returning to normal. The heartbeat seemed faster, though.

Skin slid against skin as his lips ghosted over Tezuka's flesh, leaving goose bumps in its wake. He smiled against his captain's neck, inhaling the scent that was uniquely Tezuka. The scent that was him, only him and can only be him.

Tezuka's jaw tightened slightly—Ryoma presumed that was restraint physically demonstrated. This was rare.

He smiled. He was glad that he wasn't the only one being affected by this… this strange feeling. He was glad that Tezuka wasn't the same stoic, indifferent and detached person he was with him. He was glad.

Glad.

_Glad_.

"—oma. Ryoma!"

Chuckling.

"Did he fall asleep?"

Keigo.

"Ryoma, we're here," Tezuka's warm, velvet voice floated into Ryoma's ear. Suddenly, the sofa was underneath him, and Tezuka's arms were retreating from his waist and from underneath his knees. He almost whined at the loss of contact, but the warmth was quickly replaced.

Fuji.

"Are you asleep, Ryoma?" cooed Fuji, pulling the smaller boy against his chest and nuzzling the emerald-tinged black mop of messy hair.

Ryoma hummed. He didn't even realize he had closed his eyes. Being in Tezuka's arms… was it _that_ comforting?

Fuji simply chuckled and cradled the boy. From the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw Kevin smile wistfully, before smiling and excusing himself to his room. The blonde disappeared up the hallway, never once looking back, hurrying into the darkness. His smile dropped a notch.

_Kevin…_

Fuji sighed, petting a purring Ryoma's head.

_…why must you endure this pain?_

Atobe glanced after the blonde, frowning.

_You don't deserve this. You deserve something better, such a good friend you are. I admire you, for your strength, for your loyalty. I just hope that the person who wishes to protect you the most don't end up hurting you the most in the end._

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

Gaaaaaaaaah! FINALS WEEK IS OVER! Huweeeee…

Okay, off to fangirl over stuff (read: devour anime stuff she missed over finals week) now.

Review.

**Kiasidira Ixari**  
_12.15.06_


	12. Step Twelve: Midorigaoka's Challenge

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Review, ok? I know I should be putting this after the chapter, but I just don't have anything to say. Oh yeah, I am pleased to see that Chapter 10 received the most reviews and the highest ratings. Darn, I knew you were waiting for Kevin.

From Aventria: We apologize for the slight delay, Kia was de-stressing and went on a Draco/Harry reading marathon. It's kind of my fault as well for directing her to Lightning on the Wave with her very long and very exceptional Sacrifices arc. Since this _is_ quite a long chapter, it shouldn't be much of a problem, our lateness, that is. We also have a very nice next chapter coming up so if this doesn't satisfy you, the next chapter will. Wait, actually, it will make you begging for more COUGHpardonthepunCOUGH. Oh well. Guess you guys just have to wait a bit.

**ADVANCE Warning(s):** **Graphic lemon in the next chapter.** If it gets to be too much, I'll cut it and post the whole version on my LJ just for safety. Links will be posted on my profile for those who wish to read. **_I would like to firmly state that I am not going to put in pointless lemons in this fiction. I can assure you that there is a solid plot following these lemons. _**In fact, the more exciting plots will be after the lemons.

**Warning(s):** Nothing but the casual shounen-ai here and there. And **_snogging_**!! Wohoo. Celebrate.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

**Step Twelve: Midorigaoka's Challenge**

* * *

"Oiii! Kachiro! Katsuo!" yelled Horio from the front gates, loud as ever. It was the tennis team's third official morning as the varsity, and it was a very special day for the whole of the school. 

"Horio-kun!" called back Katsuo, waving from the front doors as Horio ran over towards them, a huge bag on his back. One would think that Horio would stand out with that big bag, even without his boisterous loud voice. Not this day, though.

Practically almost half the school male population—those who weren't involved in other clubs, anyway—were carrying huge bags.

Tennis bags.

"Hyaaa, I'm so excited!" Horio chirped cheerfully, bouncing on his heels. Today was sign-up day for new members. Rejoining members from the preceding team signed up and were sorted out the previous day by the current team captain, namely Tezuka. There were only about a dozen returning members, so it wasn't much of a job.

Today was bound to be different, though.

A lot of people were enticed by the matches three days ago and these people all wanted to join. It was either for the sake of learning how to play real tennis, or for the sake of stalking the likely regulars. More than half of them claimed it was the latter.

"Me too," grinned Kachiro eagerly. "We finally get to play with our seniors again!"

"It'll be just like the old days, ne?" Katsuo remarked as they made their way up the staircases to their rooms. The loud banter and chatter permeated through walls of stone, echoing throughout the interior of the huge school building, and the words all pointed towards one topic: the new tennis club.

"All those who are going to join the club are excused today, right?" confirmed Kachiro.

Katsuo nodded. "After we finish morning homeroom hour and the teacher's day briefing, we're free to go."

"Great!" Horio hooted, punching a fist into the air, which was buzzing with anticipation and eagerness emanating from the students passing the halls. "I can't wait!"

They entered their classroom, only to stop short at the sight that greeted their eyes.

"Buchou! Fuji-senpai" the three called out simultaneously in bared shock. The shock quickly turned into embarrassment, which promptly woke them up. The three bowed in respect. "Ohayo gozaimasu!" they called out in greeting.

"Ohayo gozaimasu." Fuji smiled while Tezuka nodded at the ichinen threesome.

"We were just given the pleasure of delivering your precious classmate to his class," Fuji answered their questioning stares. "As you can see, he is incapable of walking to his classroom on his own at the moment."

Horio guffawed.

"He never changes, does he?" Katsuo chuckled.

Kachiro nodded in response. "Ryoma-kun is still the same."

Fuji chuckled. "Saa, I wonder about that." A fond smile can be spotted gracing the tensai's face.

Tezuka gently deposited a deeply snoozing Ryoma on his chair. The said boy groaned in complaint at the loss of warmth; a whine of "yadda" escaped his lips as he proceeded to cling to him. Tezuka sighed inwardly at his predicament; his balance was precarious with Ryoma clinging to him like this. Only his well trained body and pure will kept him on his feet. And Fuji's chuckles that are threatening to evolve into full blown laughter. He will not fall on his rear. He is not willing to face the mortification. Especially coming from what would be Fuji's teasing. _Kekko desu. (t/r: I'm fine.)_

"Ryoma, wake up."

A groan.

"Ryoma. It's almost time for class. _Wake up_."

"Five more minutes, buchou," was Ryoma's muffled whimper of a reply. Tezuka's free hand pinched the bridge of his nose.

"_Ryoma."_

Eyes snapped open and his back was straight and rigid. "Hai, gomen, buchou," was the immediate response. He blinked in confusion and a blush threatened to surface on his face when his thoughts collected. Tezuka's limb was his own again and he straightened. He is both amused and exasperated at the automatic obedience indoctrinated within Ryoma's instincts.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one.

Fuji's giggling behind him saying "such a good boy" behind his hand ascertains Tezuka that he will let neither of them live this down. Ryoma's glare did nothing to better the situation.

Tezuka cleared his throat. Ryoma turned to look at him—actually he is quite certain the entire room turned to look at him if they weren't already—with his head at a questioning tilt, much like a cat. "Pay attention to your teacher and don't fall asleep."

Ryoma sulked. Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "Hai, buchou," he grudgingly acquiesced.

Tezuka nodded, satisfied, just as the bell rang. He placed a hand on Ryoma's shoulder and nodded at the ichinen. "Dewa. Yuudan sezou ni ikou."

"Hai Buchou!"

Fuji chuckled at their stiff bows and went to kiss Ryoma's forehead in goodbye. "We'll see you in a bit, ne?"

"Un."

Fuji turned to the ichinen bunch and smiled. "Ja, we'll be leaving Ryoma to your hands."

"Hai! Fuji-senpai!"

Ryoma buried his head on top of his arms and groaned as soon as Fuji left. Not only must he stay awake in class, he also must now pay attention. Pay attention. Sometimes, his precious buchou was just too strict.

Oi, Echizen! Wake up!" Horio loudly yelled into Ryoma's ear, making the said boy wince pronouncedly. He turned to scowl at Horio.

"I can't sleep anymore," he grumbled grumpily. "Fuji-senpai will know if I sleep and there's no doubt that he'd tell buchou."

The ichinens blinked.

Horio settled boisterously into his seat behind Ryoma, who simply sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "Aren't you excited about the sign-up and ranking later?!"

"I'm already signed up, Horio," Ryoma lazily drawled, pointing out the obvious for the oblivious. "And it's pretty much decided that I'll be in the regulars. When that happens, it's up to buchou to decide if I get Singles 2 or 3."

"Lucky," hooted Kachiro. "You don't have to show off in front of the seniors anymore."

"What did I just do three days ago?" snorted Ryoma. "Isn't that considered showing off?" he added, fingering the clean gauze over his temple. The flesh was quickly healing and weaving itself back up, sealing the wound. The stitches would soon come off, the doctor had said. They—none other than his worrywart bunch of teammates and housemates—simply insisted that the gauze remain in place in case of unpredicted bleeding or unprecedented accidental dehiscing.

The trio, however, were unable to answer, since their advisor just walked into the classroom, his presence effectively eliminating the class' noise to a perfect hush. The teacher set his class record down on the table, before moving to the front and center.

"Before anything else," Kigure-sensei started, his eyes turning on his students with a fatherly glint. The teacher had earned the respect of many for his understanding nature and respectable presence. "I would first like to announce a very important matter that relates to this class."

There was a wave of whispers that dispersed almost as quickly as it started.

"You will have a new classmate starting classes from now on," the teacher announced, arousing excitement inside the room. The class started chattering in hushed whispers, assumptions running wild. The door slid open silently, and a small, lean, and lithe form stepped into the classroom. Bright blonde shoulder-length hair bounced slightly as the boy walked up front towards the teacher.

"This is Kevin Smith. He is a transfer student from the United States, but I have no doubt you will have no problems with regards to communication, as Smith-kun here is pretty good at our home language. I do expect you guys to treat him well," Kigure-sensei introduced.

Kevin respectfully bowed to the class. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."

The shocked silence heavily sealing the classroom like thick glass was shattered by Ryoma punching a fist into the air and whooping. "Yosh! Free lunch for me today, Kevin's treat!" grinned Ryoma.

"Free lunch, your face," snorted Kevin. "You're not that lucky, Ryo."

"Ah, it seems that Echizen-kun and Smith-kun know each other," Kigure-sensei remarked.

"Hai, sensei," nodded Kevin affirmatively. "This huge lump of laziness is my best friend, partner, and adoptive brother."

"Hey, I'm not _lazy_!"

"Yeah, right, and Atobe's not a vain freak," snorted Kevin, rolling his eyes skyward as he wove his way through the maze of the classroom, finally reaching Ryoma's seat near the back of the classroom, before sinking down into the vacant seat beside his said best friend. These double seats were sometimes not that bad. Sometimes.

"Alright," Kigure-sensei interrupted. "Since Smith-kun is apparently having no trouble settling down, of course with the help of Echizen-kun, I'll continue to some announcements. As all of you very well know by now, the new tennis club is opening and is recruiting new members today and tomorrow. All those who wish to join will be free from 9:00 in the morning onwards."

There were cheerful smiles spreading through the room.

"Be warned, though," Kigure-sensei added. "If you leave simply to skip classes and not join the club, points will be taken. A _lot_ of points. Please take note of that. Only those who are joining are allowed out. Now, I shall leave you to your homeroom hour."

The teacher walked out of the classroom, head held high with pride.

Then there was a bit of silence.

"He's a very proud person, isn't he?" Kevin drawled, cupping his chin in his palm. "Very formal too."

"Oh, the hell I care," snorted Ryoma, groaning before settling his head against Kevin's comfortable shoulder. The blonde chuckled, before relenting. He was used to these sleepy spells. They often descended on Ryoma when the boy had too much thinking before sleep. What Ryoma was thinking about he didn't know, and he didn't want to know either, in case those thoughts were something… ah, intrusive.

"I won't tell on you just this once, Ryoma," Kevin softly muttered. "Just this once."

"Thanks," murmured the raven-haired boy, before drifting back to dreamland. "You're the best, Kev."

Both ignored the peeved glances sent their way at the very familiar fashion they treated and addressed each other.

* * *

"**_Goddamn_**, when did this sorting stuff get so _complicated_!" cursed Kevin, clawing at his hair and characteristically using an English swear word with his sentence. The sunglasses dropped on the table with a silent clatter. "Ryoma didn't mention anything like this _befoooore_," he continued to whine, laying his head hopelessly against the cool wood before him. 

Fuji chuckled, petting a yawning Ryoma who was leaning against him sleepily with limbs as sturdy as jelly. Evidently, the boy stuck to his precious buchou's commands. "Middle school selections are indeed less complicated. But we're in high school now, Kevin."

"Oh, god…" Kevin groaned.

"Unyaaaaa, Kevin's right. I can't understand any of this, nya," Eiji whispered in sudden mortified realization. "Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, Oishi, I'm not stupid, am I?"

Kevin and Ryoma both snorted out loud at the poised question as Oishi sputtered. Eiji rounded on both of them and hissed aggressively, looking more like a cat than ever. The two first years returned to their own shells and kept their thoughts to themselves.

But of course, that didn't keep a certain tensai from giggling, which infuriated a certain catlike acrobat.

But of _course_, said catlike acrobat can't very well snap at the said tensai, in the shadow of the looming, fearful wrath that would descend upon them inevitably had the situation turn out heading towards the worst direction.

So the catlike acrobat was reduced to pitiful whining against a flustered Oishi's shoulder.

_Really, Oishi-senpai should gain at least a bit of backbone and take the incentive with Eiji-senpai. I wouldn't be surprised if Eiji-senpai always topped._ Kevin repressed his urge to snort as he watched Oishi flush redder and redder while Eiji obliviously continued to whine, rub, and… _provoke_ his partner. _Honestly, Oishi-senpai should be more like Fuji-senpai. Then I'm pretty sure their sex life would be _more_amusing._

Inui, in the meantime, distractedly ran through the procedures of the sorting, checking, rechecking, and re-rechecking if there were any errors at all. It was supposed to go smoothly, because they wanted to avoid the sorting extending further into the next day. Right now, sign-ups were beginning, and the other rejoined members were taking care of matters, along with Nanjiroh.

Or so they hoped.

For all they knew, Nanjiroh could be _any_where, reading some obscure pornography book and jerking off.

Inui shook his head liberally, ridding himself of thoughts regarding the perverted man of a coach they had. The data expert instead focused on his work. This was supposed to work smoothly. First, the sign-ups would finish up. Then, there would come the sorting. They would seed out each player by year first. That was the easy part. And then, in each year, they would rank players. There were three ranks: the inner circle (or the first ranks), the outer circle (or the lower ranks), and the periphery.

These were _ridiculous_ names, yes, but creative nonetheless. Fuji was the one who came up with them, and given that fact, Inui wasn't compelled to doubt the suggestion. Fuji wasn't a genius for nothing after all.

These names, not only were they perfect for describing the ranks, but they also served a fat lot to keeping their rankings and player status under hush. Other teams would of course no doubt figure out what they meant by looking deeper into it, but by dividing each year into three obscure ranks, it blurred the lines of the team's ability when someone was standing on the outside looking in. It was useful when keeping secrets from other teams.

The inner circle were the ones who showed real potential on being near worthy of a Regular spot. The outer circle were reserved for the ones who were simply lacking either the incentive to push further, or the actual talent to go through. The periphery… well, that was for newbies. Each rank had specialized training as well to improve them based on their ranked abilities.

Of course, the Regulars' training was _way tougher_ than theirs. Oh, they could only begin to imagine what kind of horrors Nanjiroh put them through every time they went back to the Manor with the other teams to continue their special one-month interschool training program.

They were bereft with knowledge as to what real suffering was all about.

Inui sighed. So far, the record was about a hundred or so sorted into the periphery in all year levels. There were quite a few who made it into the outer circle. And even _fewer_ into the inner circle. Especially in the second years. The first year's inner circle was better off; they had quite a talented bunch of rookies this year.

_Well, that's most probably the biggest understatement of the year, _snorted Inui. _Here I am, sharing a table with a snoozing first year who's a Wimbledon_ _and US Open Champion, and another first year who's a Roland Garros and an Australian Open Champion himself. Hardly fitting that I'm thinking these thoughts._

Ryoma yawned a _huge_ yawn, before snuggling against Fuji's warmth, wrapping two slender arms around the lithe form of the chestnut-haired youth. The cat-eyed boy smiled contentedly as the tensai wrapped warm arms around him as he indulged in the welcoming warmth. This was _so_ comfortable.

"Ne, is he related to Jirou-senpai?" Momoshiro asked out of the blue, pulling almost the whole of the team's attention towards him—except for one _very_ sleepy, _very_ lazy Wimbledon Champion. "I mean, that would explain why he's so… _sleepy_ all the time."

"Ryoma's just that," snorted Kevin, dunking his head into his folded arms over the table before releasing a huge sigh. "He's been like that ever since I knew him. He's not like that when he's in a tennis match, I know, and he's not like that too when he's really inspired, but right now, he's not and he just wants to _sleep_ and _relax_ and recover from the camp training. And he wants to snuggle against Fuji-senpai," he added with a joking, friendly sneer.

"**_Shove it, Kevin_,**" murmured Ryoma in reflexive English.

Kevin shrugged and sighed, before relaxing his tense shoulders again and being careful to turn away from Fuji and Ryoma. He didn't want to open his wound far more than he already had. It would do more damage than good, that he was sure of. He wasn't sure on how long he could maintain this charade anymore. It was eating away at his edges. Slowly and painfully, it was. It _is_. Right now.

The blonde hefted his new Seigaku Regular's Jersey over his head, hiding his face. The whole of the team knew now, and they won't question. It was far too obvious to ignore now, and everyone—at least, as far as he suspected—everyone _except_ Ryoma had noticed. How wonderful.

He shifted his memory towards something less painful. He doubted there was _something_ less painful in his head, since he'd been too crowded with pain and jealousy since he arrived in Japan.

He found his comfort in his new jacket.

Even though he was no official Regular, and even though he'd just joined the team, everyone had seen it fit to give him a jersey. He deserved it well, Inui had said. He was part of the family now, Eiji had insisted while bouncing on his feet. They said that even if one of them was always left out of the Regulars every sorting, all of them still wore the jersey. It was the urge of loyalty and the warmth of belonging, he now thought. It was the comforting feeling that one belonged even if all the formal laws says otherwise.

They were just waiting for the go signal from their captain, and Tezuka should sweep in anytime now. They'd been waiting for more than an hour already, and sign-ups should already be close to finishing. Even Kaidoh was visibly itching to get on court already, what with the clenching and unclenching of his fists over his racket.

And there he came.

The door opened and Tezuka entered the quite spacious club meeting room they now used officially. This room, Nanjiroh had decided, was reserved for the Regulars and the coach.

The response was immediate.

Eiji sprung up from his seat, bouncing on his heels and holding his racket. Oishi straightened up, and Inui's attention shifted completely towards Tezuka and whatever he might say. Kawamura removed his chin from his palm and leaned back in his seat, while Momoshiro immediately moved and pulled himself forward to lean his elbows eagerly on the table, his chair scraping noisily against the floor. Kaidoh gripped his racket tightly and straightened his slouch as Fuji smiled and turned towards Tezuka. Kevin removed his head from the table and straightened up, yawning.

There was only one member who failed to react.

Ryoma shifted against Fuji, turning in the warm embrace, before murmuring a small, breathy "nya". The cat eyes remained blissfully closed, a smile etched on the handsome young face.

Tezuka sighed and dropped his head, observing Ryoma.

"Fuji, wake him."

Fuji looked up for a moment at the captain, cocking his head to the side as if contemplating something, before returning his gaze down to the teen snoozing lightly on his chest. He moved his hand and brushed it against the side of Ryoma's face, making the boy whine.

"Wake up, Ryoma-chan. It's time," cooed Fuji. The boy, contrary to Tezuka's initial assumption, immediately groaned, opened his eyes, and yawned.

Ryoma slowly lifted himself from Fuji's chest, stretching and yawning along the way. He slumped against his chair and blearily opened his eyes once more, adjusting to the adequate lighting inside the room. He turned towards Tezuka expectantly.

Eiji's jaw dropped. "Fuji, how do you _do_ that?!"

"Huh? Do what?" asked Fuji, cocking his head to one side and looking baffled.

"You… you woke up ochibi just like that! H-How…" stuttered Eiji.

"Ne, buchou… are we finished yet? I wanna play," whined Ryoma, totally ignoring Eiji.

Fuji chuckled and let Eiji's query remain unanswered, tangling a hand softly in Ryoma's dark hair, who purred at the contact. "Patience, Ryo-chan."

"I've spent enough of my patience waiting for the newbies, thank you very much," grumbled Kevin.

"So, are they finished?" Inui asked Tezuka, who nodded in affirmation.

Momoshiro grinned. "So we should get out there and drill them!"

"Momo, I never knew you enjoyed picking on newbies," Eiji muttered, raising an eyebrow. Momoshiro flushed.

Then Ryoma started flailing uncharacteristically, whining. "Let's go oooooout, buchou…"

Tezuka sighed, conceding. "Alright, come on. We'll start warm up drills."

The team exploded into a flurry of action and cheers. Outside, the other members of the team looked curiously at the club room, which was right beside the locker rooms and shower rooms. Everyone outside was curiously waiting for the Regulars to arrive, and when they heard the cheers, immediate eager smiles broke out on faces.

The door opened again to reveal Kevin hanging over a sleepy Ryoma and dragging with him Momoshiro and Eiji, who were both in turn bouncing on their heels. Kaidoh was hissing, already in his battle mode slouch. Fuji was, well, smiling. When does he ever stop? Oishi moved out beside his partner, laughing lightly at Eiji's antics, while Inui pored insistently over his notes.

Tezuka moved up front. "Minna, the sorting will start shortly. Just give our regulars a few minutes to warm up. I suggest everybody should warm up as well. We don't want cramps and sprains on the first day," he announced with a solid, commanding voice.

"Hai, buchou!" came the collective reply.

"Dewa. Yuudan sezou ni ikou," he ended, turning on his heel and facing his teammates. "You guys, on the other hand, know what to do."

The team nodded collectively. Ryoma yawned. "**_Come on, Kev, let's just do the usual_.**"

Kevin shrugged, before walking off with Ryoma towards one of the courts. The two youngest regulars were followed by the others, Eiji bouncing all the way.

"Unyaaaaaaaaaaaaa, it's been _so loooooooooooooooong_ since I got to stand on courts like these!" Eiji practically screamed for the whole world to hear, bouncing up and down on the same court as Kevin and Ryoma.

"Ne, Eiji-senpai, how can we start our game if you're over there?" Kevin pointed out. "I mean, we're happy for you and all, but we need to play too."

"You see, we were thinking of a short doubles match against the two of you," Oishi explained, experimentally swinging his racket once, before adjusting the strings. "After all, you're champions, right? It's a good opportunity."

Ryoma and Kevin looked at each other as they stretched. The black-haired teen shrugged. "I guess we can indulge."

"Not like there's anything else to do," snorted Kevin.

"Oishi," Tezuka began warningly.

"Aa, it's only a short warm-up match, Tezuka," Oishi amended quickly. "Nothing more."

"Good," nodded the captain, before going back to his warm up with Fuji on the opposite court. Nearby, Kaidoh and Momoshiro were doing their own, while Kawamura and Inui were on the far court.

"Right then," Ryoma decidedly stood, moving towards his service post, while Kevin moved towards his position by the net. "Three sets, standard scoring?"

"Sure!" bounced Eiji. But the relaxed grin on the redheads face faded slowly, replaced by a serious challenging smile. The said player started flipping his racket on one hand, while positioning himself by the net.

"Ooooh," Kevin teased. "Serious already?"

Ryoma was barely aware of the milling crowd gathering around them, whispers moving through the courts. He pulled out a ball from his pocket. "Ready, Kev?"

"Anytime, Ryo," grinned Kevin, shifting his racket experimentally.

There was the sharp impact of a ball hitting a racket, and the ball went whizzing through the court as a yellow blur. Kevin spared a glance worth a split-second.

_Right hand._ _Ryoma used his right hand._

He shifted his racket's weight on his right hand, using the spin of the ball to determine which hand his partner had used. The ball was returned by Oishi, and Kevin ran to catch the ball, rallying it back again. The rally continued for five more minutes, each one of them warming up their muscles. Before anybody got serious, they needed to make necessary preparations first. Nobody wanted sprains and cramps after all.

The rally was unexpectedly finished as Eiji used his Seal Step and shot his Kikumaru Beam. It was unexpectedly stronger than before.

Ryoma stared at the ball rolling off to the side as Oishi announced "15-0". He raised his eyebrows. "Heeehh…" he drew out slowly. His eyes flickered towards Fuji and Tezuka, who were both finished with their warm-ups and were watching the game as well.

Kevin rolled his eyes. His best friend was really more than knee-deep into his affection for the two elder players. He snorted. Good thing it wasn't Atobe, or else, he'd crawl out of his skin.

"Oi, seeerve!" Eiji impatiently stomped his foot. Ryoma rolled his eyes.

"Hai, hai, coming," Ryoma muttered, pulling out another ball. He twisted it around in his hand as his mind started forming a strategy. "Kev."

"Hm?"

"**_Magnet Double_**," announced Ryoma.

Kevin's face considerably brightened, a devious smirk spreading on his face.

"Bring it."

Ryoma served the ball sharply, his wrist twisting at almost impossible angles as he added paranormal spin on the ball. The ball skimmed the net as it dove downwards on normal speed but abnormal spin. Eiji caught the ball, flipping on one hand as he rallied it over to Kevin. The blonde shot the ball again, adding even a stronger sideward spin on the ball.

This continued for about a minute or two, before Inui started speaking.

"Creative. Very creative," he nodded, muttering to himself as he started taking notes.

A sweaty and warmed-up Momoshiro approached them. "What's creative, Inui-senpai?"

"Fssssh, there's something weird about the brat pair's shots," Kaidoh observantly hissed. "Look at them. You should be able to sense it, peach butt."

Momoshiro ignored the insult stringed with the sentence in favor of observing the younger pair playing on the court. His specialized heightened senses squinted particularly at the wind pressure around the ball as it was returned by Kevin with a grunt. He squinted his eyes, his skin feeling for changes in pressure as the ball whizzed by.

"There's a strong wind current spinning around the ball, and it's getting stronger and stronger," Momoshiro observed.

"Correct," Inui nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, this is what they call _Magnet Double_. It's basically using the _Magnet Balls_ in a Doubles match, though I don't know exactly what these _Magnet Balls_ do. Apparently, Kevin knows how to do the _Magnet Balls_ as well."

"What'd you expect?" snorted Kaidoh. "Those two let each other in on techniques."

"Well, even if they don't let each other in, they still find it out since they can copy them," Kawamura pointed out.

"Here goes Eiji," pointed Inui as the acrobat started hitting the balls faster across the court. The acrobat had developed another technique named _Seal Blades_, and truthfully speaking, it was an accidental technique. Eiji had started training his muscles from the moment they left junior high school, and his arms started developing strength slowly.

One fateful day, they were playing on the street courts, and Momoshiro accidentally shot a ball towards an unguarded Eiji, who hurriedly shot it back with a peculiar twist of his body and arm, along with some strength added to the wrist. The shot sliced through the air sleekly, cutting through Momoshiro's shirt sleeve and leaving a clean slice.

It was a particularly dangerous technique, and if not used properly, it presented a huge threat to the opponent's well-being.

"They're really serious, aren't they?" chuckled Fuji. "But don't they notice it?"

"They're making a mistake," nodded Tezuka.

"Eh? Fuji-senpai, what do you mean?" Horio, who had been standing quietly beside the tensai, suddenly asked.

"Watch carefully, Horio," Fuji spoke in his naturally gentle tone. "Kevin and Ryoma… they're sneaky brats, them two."

"Well, thanks for stating the obvious," an arrogant voice said from behind Fuji. They needed not to turn around to recognize the voices.

"Atobe. How nice of you to stop by," Fuji smiled tightly, his aura starting to emit a dark tinge. The tensai didn't turn around. Instead, he kept his eyes trained firmly on the moving form of Ryoma.

Tezuka, on the other hand, turned and welcomed the Hyotei team with a handshake to their captain. The rest of the club members muttered wildly at the newest arrival, but the Hyotei team remained unnoticed by the players on court. The rally's been going for nearly three minutes already, and neither party wanted to let go. In fact, Ryoma and Kevin seemed eager to let the rally go on forever.

"That's strange," muttered Oishitari, immediately noticing what they had earlier noted.

"It's coming," Fuji smiled cryptically.

"Nanda… Fuji-senpai, do you know their technique?" Momoshiro asked in surprise.

"No, I don't," Fuji shook his head in negation. "But I have a hunch."

"And a genius' hunches are often right," nodded Oshitari. Fuji simply smiled wider.

"What is he doing?!" Gakuto impatiently shrieked. "Ooooi, Kikumaru, hurry it up and take it!"

Kevin dodged the ball quickly and let Ryoma deal with it as he started gearing up for the final shot. As the ball whizzed past him, a snip of his hair was sliced off. He smirked.

_Nifty technique, that one. I should probably store it away for later use._

"Almost there…" muttered Fuji, observing the ball.

Ryoma then returned the ball—when in fact it should have been _Kevin's_ ball—with a sharp snap of his wrist.

"There!"

Eiji caught the ball and was about to apply another spin to it, when the ball unexpectedly swerved out of his racket's way, like a magnet moving away to avoid another magnet having the same charge.

"EH?!" he exclaimed as he stumbled on his feet. The ball swerved to the opposite direction and bounced towards his partner Oishi, who ran after the ball to catch it. This time, Oishi caught the ball and returned it with a push…

…only to find the ball stuck to his racket.

"Like a magnet attracting another magnet with a polar opposite charge," Kevin grinned, hefting his racket over his shoulder. "Neat trick, ain't it?"

"What the hell…?" Momoshiro muttered, his eyes widening.

"Oi, Inui, what was that?!" Eiji exclaimed. "Explaaaain!"

"Simple concept, really," Ryoma answered, shrugging dismissively. "You apply more and more spin on the ball to get it charged. The rackets, as the match wears on, accumulates charges as well. Opposite charges attract, same charges repel. Simple as that."

"When you used that technique of yours—what's it called?" Kevin continued.

"_Seal Blades_?"

"Neat name. Seal Blades… it added spin on the ball. It actually encouraged our technique," Kevin concluded.

"But… but how come your rackets aren't affected?" Eiji spluttered.

"Ah, now, _that's_ a secret," grinned Kevin.

"Waaaah, unfaaair!" Eiji wailed. "They used us as guinea pigs for their new technique!"

Oishi quickly tried to amend his partner, and Ryoma was about to retort that it wasn't a new technique, when a new, foreign voice called out over the courts.

"That's alright, carrothead, you aren't good for anything else other than being guinea pigs anyway," came an arrogant drawl.

Heads snapped towards the direction of the voice.

There was a team standing by the courts, hefting green and white tennis bags over their shoulders as they shifted on their feets. They wore green and white jerseys, and despicable smirks on their faces. Most of them Ryoma didn't recognize, but there was one face—the captain, he presumed—that was etched down into his memory.

How could it not be?

The face was… well, something not easily forgotten. Ryoma had the impression that the captain was some kind of a rock star. He had countless piercing on both ears, and something clicked noisily as he grinned. Ryoma suspected it was a tongue ring. The hair was gelled and spiked up, the black streaked with shocking pink and subtle blue.

But he was not the one who spoke. It was the boy who was slouched beside him, most probably a junior, with long brown hair pulled back into a pony tail and a nose ring glinting against the sunlight.

"Midorigaoka!"

"What are they doing here?"

"Are they gonna watch too…?"

"Man, this sucks."

"It's pressure enough to be watched by the Regulars, and Hyotei…"

"And now them too!"

"Aren't they the ones who beat Rikkaidai?"

"That's right!" laughed the guy who had long brown hair. "We _did_ beat Rikkaidai. They're nothing but bugs to be squashed into the ground."

"And lookie here," snickered another one, this time a guy with jet black hair spiked up, a lip ring with a chain connecting to his earring glistening in the sun. "We've got _more_ bugs to squash."

Kevin's eyes narrowed, but he made no move. Instead, he turned his back on them and made towards Ryoma, who was still staring with an unreadable blank expression on his face. Kevin recognized the hostility ebbing around Ryoma, though. Ryoma was _not_ a pretty sight when scorned. Kevin placed a hand on Ryoma's shoulder and steered the boy around, walking towards the others. It was evident that the game was cancelled. The mood was ruined after all.

"And look," the long-haired guy continued. "There's the famous Kunimitsu Tezuka, the tight-assed, old-fashioned bitch of a captain!"

Kevin cringed.

Wrong move.

Ryoma whipped around and served a ball, the yellow blur whizzing and cutting through the air, invisible to the naked eye, and slicing past the long-haired guy. The young boy hostilely seethed.

"**_Don't you _dare._ Insult. My captain,_**" hissed Ryoma aggressively. The voice was low and soft, but the crackling fury was evident in Ryoma's flaring eyes. Ryoma was already close to activating his Muga no Kyouichi.

As he finished his sentence, the Midorigaoka player's long hair fell down to the ground in a flurry of silken, well-kempt strands. The hair was sliced straight through, now reduced to shoulder-length.

There was silence.

"MY HAIR!"

Footsteps.

"You should learn never to anger him," a gentle voice much like Fuji's came from behind the Midorigaoka team. Everyone turned towards the direction to find the Rikkai team, standing as support for Seigaku. "He's not a pretty sight when angry, you see."

The Midorigaoka captain's lip curled, whether in disgust or contempt or a mix of both, Kevin did not know. "Yukimura."

"Reitou," Yukimura said with not so much as a glance as he walked past the Midorigaoka team to enter the courts, making a beeline for Tezuka. Sanada, who was as always beside his captain, blazed an intense glare towards Reitou. Yukimura held out his hand to Tezuka in greeting. "Tezuka. Congratulations with the new club."

"Aa. Arigato," nodded Tezuka, accepting the hand. Yukimura turned to Atobe and shook hands as well.

"I'm sorry we were a tad bit late. Atobe-kun's call didn't reach my phone, since I turned it off," Yukimura apologized. "We should have been here the same time as Hyotei."

"That's ok, no harm done," Fuji smiled back. Then he made a move towards Kevin and Ryoma. "Now if you'll excuse me, my ward is… well, starting to get _too_ hostile."

Yukimura chuckled and nodded. Kirihara lifted his lips in a feral snarl at Reitou, emitting the same dark aura around himself as Ryoma was doing.

"Kirihara," Sanada warningly said. The junior huffed and turned to Yukimura, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Fuji walked towards Ryoma, who was still hissing at the Midorigaoka team in anger. "Ryoma," he called out, placing an arm around the young one's shoulder. "Ryoma-chan, calm down."

Ryoma snapped. "How the _fuck_ can I calm down when he just insulted Tezuka-buchou?!" snarled the boy aggressively. Kevin winced. He hated it when Ryoma was in this mood. That didn't mean he didn't agree to what Ryoma did, though.

"Ryoma, I think what you did is enough for today," Kevin sighed, motioning towards the guy who _had_ long hair. Now, it was… well, pretty short. "I don't think he was planning a haircut anytime soon."

The guy's face was contorted in frustration and fury as he tugged at his short hair. Momoshiro resisted the urge to laugh, turning his guffaw into a pretentious yet obvious cough. Atobe smirked. It seems Ryoma had the habit of turning his anger to his opponent's hair. He was happy that someone else had the honor of experiencing Ryoma's haircut skills.

"Yeah, and I need an explanation on why you copied my _Seal Blades_, ochibi," Eiji demandingly huffed. "So just let it go."

"I'm not fucking letting it go until they get on their knees and apologize, Eiji-senpai," growled Ryoma, his eyes spitting fire.

"_Ryoma._ That's _enough._"

"But—"

"_Ryoma!_"

"But buchou!" Ryoma stubbornly insisted, turning to his captain. "They _insulted_ you! They called you a—a—"

"I'm aware of that, Ryoma," Tezuka calmly responded, trying to tame the raging fire inside his charge. It was not an easy task, and sometimes he was tempted to agree to the notion that Ryoma had far too much respect for him, it's starting to be a hazard. "But I am asking you to let it go. We don't want to get expelled from the club just when we formed it back again, do we?"

Ryoma hissed loudly, aggressiveness leaking from the boy. He screwed his brilliant, flaming golden eyes shut, trying to siphon the anger and transform it into determination.

He turned on his heel and reopened his eyes after a while, directing a glare that froze and burned at the same time.

Momoshiro hissed in pain as if hit by a ball when he saw Ryoma's glare. Kaidoh took a step back. Eiji whimpered lightly, clinging to a concerned and slightly shaken Oishi. Atobe's lip curled in part amusement and part trepidation. Sanada narrowed his eyes and bore the glare, having been on the receiving end of it once before. Yukimura smiled in approval. Tezuka sighed.

"_You,_" Ryoma started, his voice holding a trembling anger trying to be contained. "_You will regret ever insulting my captain. You will regret ever setting foot on this campus to insult us. You will regret ever meeting this team, because this team will bring. You. Down. Hard. You will regret ever meeting **me**, because I will make sure there is **nothing**, I repeat, **nothing** left of your honor, your dignity, and your earned status on the interschool rankings when I finish dealing with you._"

Fuji flinched.

Ryoma was _dead serious. _

Silence.

"Man, you guys are in for a nightmare," Kevin chuckled nervously. "You'll really wish you didn't anger him."

"You talk big for a _boy_, brat!" snapped Reitou. "Show us that you can at least reach us in the competitions before you start talking nonsense!"

Ryoma's lip curled. "You're on, sucker. If it's a challenge you want, it's a challenge you get. Just don't go crying when I beat your bloody asses and use your ugly faces to mop the floor."

"_Now_ you're talking," grinned Momoshiro.

"I like challenges, nya," Eiji bounced. "They give me incentive to fight."

"Well said, Ryoma," chuckled Kevin.

"Ryoma, that's enough," Tezuka scolded. "Come here."

Ryoma snarled one last time at the Midorigaoka team, before stalking over to his captain with Fuji and Kevin.

"I appreciate your concern and I'm sorry for the trouble it caused you for coming here," Tezuka addressed Reitou coldly. "But if you don't mind, we need to start our sorting, and as such, we don't want outsiders to remain on court."

"What do you call _them_?" Reitou snorted, snapping his head towards Hyotei and Rikkaidai.

"Well, you see, we were _invited_ here," Atobe pointed out. "You _weren't_. So we'd really appreciate it if you'd go on your own way and leave us be."

Reitou hissed aggressively at them, before turning on his heel and motioning for his team to retreat. The guy who had brown hair pinned Ryoma with a dark glare, which was returned by the said boy evenly.

Tezuka sighed, shaking his head.

Exactly what they needed.

Distractions.

* * *

Ah, yes, distractions were never nice. Tezuka had known that ever since childhood. Distractions made him miss curfews, be late for classes, forget his homework, and be late for practice. Distractions disturbed his play, ruined his concentration, and crumbled his resolve. Distractions were something he wasn't particularly fond of.

And right now, he was _distracted_.

Very badly distracted.

He sighed, tying his shoelaces firmly and tightly, tugging at it to make sure it was secure. The entire day had been incredibly taxing on all of them, but thankfully enough, the sorting was finished today, and so they could start normal training tomorrow. Even with the interference this morning, they managed to finish early.

He sighed and straightened up, tapping his foot against the floor to firmly lodge his foot into his sneakers. Tripping was something he did not want to experience, nor the humiliation it carried with it in case someone saw him.

He recalled the sorting earlier, and with it, he recalled Ryoma's disgruntled expression. The boy ran through his duties through the sorting smoothly, but there was no evident enthusiasm behind his actions. He found this strange, because the boy should have been more than encouraged to continue his duties, given the earlier interruptions that brought about his fluctuating anger he carried through the day.

He was bothered extremely by this behavior, and true to his best friend and boyfriend, he asked Fuji about it. The tensai told him that the reason was most probably _him_.

At first, Tezuka didn't understand why he should be the reason. He didn't do anything wrong to the boy.

But of course! Ryoma might have been thinking that Tezuka was mad at him because of the earlier event. The little scene had caused him to shout—to raise his voice at the boy. He didn't want that, really. But Ryoma, he knew, is a sensitive person. He might have taken that seriously.

Add to that the fact that Tezuka didn't have any chance to approach the boy afterwards, and it all boils down to a guilty, disgruntled Ryoma thinking that his captain is mad at him.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. This posed a problem.

He was slightly startled—though he refused to show it, because Tezuka-buchou is _never_ startled—when the locker room's door opened slowly, making minimal but noticeable noise. How could it not be noticeable? It was the only noise around. People left already, and he was supposedly the last to leave, because he had to attend to several captaincy matters, and Nanjiroh had given him the permission to come home later than everyone else because of this.

Who else was here, then?

His question was answered immediately when Ryoma came around the corner, looking bashful and uncertain.

"B-Buchou…"

"Ryoma? Didn't you go home yet?"

"Uhh, I just…"

There was silence for a while. Tezuka waited patiently, remaining seated on the bench while Ryoma stood uncertainly in front of him, uncharacteristically hesitant, shuffling on his feet. The half-darkness hid Ryoma's face quite good, but not good enough for Tezuka's sharp eyes. He could see the uncertain darting glances the golden eyes gave him, the lips hesitantly opening to form words.

"…I wanted to apologize about earlier, when I disobeyed…"

Ryoma ducked his head low, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, buchou, I swear it won't happen again! I'm sorry I made you angry!"

He released his words in one straight gust of breath, biting his lower lip afterwards.

Tezuka smiled inwardly. He didn't even need to move a finger. He didn't answer, though, and this caused distress inside Ryoma's head. He could practically see the turmoil and maelstrom of thoughts running through the young boy's mind, all possibly pointing towards the worst case scenario. He was glad that Ryoma was unguarded enough to show this side of him. Ryoma could act all unmovable and tough, but inside, really, he was just a child. A boy, a teen needing affection.

Tezuka reached up and held Ryoma's chin firmly between his fingers before he lifted it from the bow, making the boy look at him.

"B-Buchou?"

Tezuka moved swiftly forward, and in one swoop towards the boy, he captured those pink, plump lips wanting affection.

Ryoma did a double take and gasped against Tezuka's lips, before the reality of the situation sunk into his brain and he slowly slid his eyes closed, pressing closer against his captain. He voluntarily wrapped his arms around Tezuka's neck and pressed against the elder one's lips, feeling the captain respond and move into the kiss, deepening it.

Ryoma shivered when Tezuka's tongue took the opportunity of his gasp and slithered into his mouth. Ryoma lightly touched his against Tezuka's and moaned at the warm contact. He tilted his head, pressing against Tezuka's chest, molding himself against the one he so wanted to hold. He'd been dreaming of this for so long.

Tezuka slid his lips against the boy's, unable to resist the temptation and simply just giving in. He moved slowly, deliberately, gently, guiding the younger one deeper into the kiss. He knew that Ryoma knew how to kiss; Kevin wasn't there for him just because of friendship. He knew that Ryoma and Kevin had a short relationship, and though the relationship was more of a half-hearted one, there wasn't a lack of physical attention with it.

He knew that Ryoma was untouched, though. Kevin said it himself.

Tezuka pulled back, his eyes traveling to Ryoma's slightly parted moist, red lips before staring back up deep into Ryoma's half-lidded golden eyes. He wanted _so _much more…

…but this was not the right time, and this was _definitely_ not the right place.

Soon.

Tezuka turned and placed a small endearing kiss on Ryoma's jaw.

Ryoma smiled and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth.

"You're forgiven."

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

Eto… REVIEW! Review.

**ADVANCE Warning(s):****Graphic lemon in the next chapter.** If it gets to be too much, I'll cut it and post the whole version on my LJ just for safety. Links will be posted on my profile for those who wish to read. **_I would like to firmly state that I am not going to put in pointless lemons in this fiction. I can assure you that there is a solid plot following these lemons. _**In fact, the more exciting plots will be after the lemons.

I just wanted to repeat that.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_12.22.06 _


	13. Step Thirteen: Burning Passion

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Kia-chan is nervous. It is not because this is her first lemon, no. It is because this is her _second_ lemon, and she hasn't written anything of the sort for… say, 6 months. And Kia-chan is a bit queasy, because she does not know if she will do good. Tria-chan has helped with the foundation and the structure, so Kia-chan is a bit comforted by that, but still, Kia-chan is nervous.

**Note:** **I am raising the ratings to M. Please take note of this.** If you're not comfortable with male-male sex, please be warned. I'm not going to tell you to move out, seeing as you can always avoid the lemon part, but I am _not_ going to lack proper warnings.

((_Hey, why am I talking in third person?_))

Okay… so. Here we go. Lots of fooling around in this chapter. And **A MYSTERY BETWEEN ATOBE AND** **RYOMA! **Alas, the little snogging scene with Ryoma and Atobe a few chapters back will soon be explained.

**ADVANCE Warning(s): Graphic lemon in the next chapter as well.** _These are not pointless lemons. I put them here to please the yaoi fans. Rest assured, there **will** be a plot._

**Warning(s):** For this chapter, **lemon. There will be warnings when the lemon is coming up, for those who want to skip through it. **_If you think this is a bit too graphic for please do tell me so I can cut the lemon part and move it to LiveJournal. _

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_**I have great news for you people! Since it is Christmas and nearly New Year, I'll let you have a sneak peek into the next arc of the fic, **after we finish this lover's arc here. This will presumably be around Chapter 20 or so. Treat this as a gift of sorts._

* * *

**Sneak Peek**

"**_Joy, joy, joy!!_**"

A pair of golden cat eyes rolled skywards as the owner of the said eyes passed a bouncing and giddy sugar-high Kevin Smith. The said blonde player was prancing around the cold, backache-inducing metal seats, arms thrown out and whirling in wide arcs and circles. People were both amused, albeit slightly put off, with the energetic, wild show.

"**_Kevin, sit your ass down_**," a haughty tone in prim, straight English devoid of any accent snapped sharply at the blonde. Said blonde huffed, crossing his arms abruptly as he stopped whirling about, before dropping unceremoniously on one of those much-hated seats. Beside the disgruntled blonde, a smirking Atobe Keigo flipped his hair. "**_You're making too much of a commotion to be worthy of my ever-astounding presence, Kevin. If you want to remain within my presence for any longer, you'll have to learn how to behave yourself like how people do in the alta-ciudad._**"

A smooth, black eyebrow raised beyond limits towards the emerald-tinted black hairline as a chuckling cat-eyed boy observed the proceedings. It did not come as a surprise that Atobe knew how to speak English; he wasn't the heir of the Atobe Group of Companies for nothing. Sure enough, even though he didn't show it most of the time, Atobe was well-educated with these sorts of things. The knowledge often came in handy.

"You'd expect him to stop with the 'ore-sama' comments now that we're here, but I can see we still have to suffer through all that even now," sighed Ryoma in disappointment.

A chuckle came from a certain auburn-haired genius sitting beside the cat-eyed boy. "He'll never change, Ryoma-chan. Of all people, _you_ should know that best."

"Where are they? They've been gone for over an hour now…" voiced a worried captain on the other side of the elite Wimbledon Champion, eyeing the ever-moving, fast-paced crowd. Apparently, the bespectacled elder player hadn't been paying attention to Atobe's little episode. "Did they get lost? I sincerely hope _not_."

Ryoma snorted. "I share the sentiments, buchou, but if we were to think logically and piece together facts from previous experiences, we'd very much come to the likely conclusion that they _are_ indeed lost."

"I don't like this," the captain murmured, reaching a hand up and pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighing in desperation.

"Neither do I, buchou, but facts are facts, and facts are meant to be faced," Ryoma sighed with him.

"Do they even know how to speak English?" asked a now concerned Fuji, addressing the question to no one in particular, while kneading a silently purring Ryoma's nape lightly.

"I honestly don't know. Inui-san is with them, so rest assured, they'll have someone with some semblance of self-control, self-preservation, dignity, and brains," pointed out a sedate-looking Kirihara squashed comfortably between Sanada and a lightly snoozing Yukimura. "They have Oshitari-san too, he should be able to lend some help. And there's Tachibana-san to lead them through."

Atobe shook his head. "Pitiful people. I do not want to be in their shoes right now."

"They'll survive," shrugged a chuckling Kevin. "It's a good first-hand experience, a once in a lifetime chance. Let them treasure it in their memories as a one-of-a-kind experience… '_Our Most Memorable Day: Our First Day In The United States_ _As Junior Pro Tennis Players Spent Lost Inside The Insanely Crowded Maze They Call_ _Detroit_ _International__Airport_'"

* * *

**Step Thirteen: Burning Passion**

* * *

Ryoma pouted. 

_How the FUCK did I get myself into this mess again?_

His pout grew longer—if that was even possible.

The young lad of fifteen fiddled with his obviously oversized—by one notch or two, he thought in passing—cat-eared beanie, before tugging at his oversized—yet again, a notch or two—matching long-sleeved sweater which reached past his wrist, the hems of the sleeves resting at the middle of his palms. He also wore matching pajamas, and a cute pair of fluffy, cat-eared indoor slippers.

He shuffled his feet, which were dangling on the edge of the grand silk-laden divan he was sitting on. He was currently resting in one of the manor's waiting rooms, the one which overlooked the bayside view. The sun had already set about an hour ago, and it was currently pitch dark outside, with nothing but the sound of the waves crashing onshore disturbing the silent darkness.

There were a few scented candles lit on each corner of the room, giving the place a yellowish ethereal glow. The light was ample enough to illuminate the whole room, but along with the illumination came a strange yet warm breath of air inside the otherwise cool room.

He groaned.

_How long will I put up with this… this costume?!_

He tugged at one beanie ear.

He had to admit, it was kind of comfortable.

_But that's not the fucking point!_

He groaned. He never really cursed this much in his thoughts except when he was really _very_ frustrated. He'd been sitting inside the waiting room—and now, he knew just _why_ it was called _waiting_ room—for nearly an hour, and _no one_ came even just once to check up on him.

He resisted the urge to whine.

He didn't want to appear a weakling in front of Atobe's cameras—oh, he was sure there were cameras—but he knew that it was probably too late to contemplate on that thought too. He'd been acting a cute little kitten in front of everybody for the past few days, so it was pointless to appear strong now.

So he whined. Loud.

"Syuuuusuke… Kuni-buuuuu…"

It was okay to whine. Just as long as he didn't whine when it came to tennis, it was okay. Because everybody knew tennis is his forte, and therefore, he must not show any kind of weakness on the tennis court—or even off it as long as it's considered related to tennis.

There was a muffled chuckle from outside the room, and a shadow obscured the light streaming through the opaque glass sliding doors leading into the waiting room. The door slid open to reveal Fuji, his camera in hand, smile widening at the sight that welcomed him.

"Ryoma-chan," cooed Fuji. "Sorry for the wait," the tensai continued, moving towards Ryoma and planting a tender kiss on top of Ryoma's nose. The older player had to crouch to Ryoma's eye level for that, but he didn't mind. The cute young lad who served the center of his affection was worth any effort on his part, as far as he was concerned. He smiled. "Atobe was being a bother."

"I can imagine that," snorted Ryoma, pouting again. He kicked his legs, which were still dangling on the side of the divan. "Why do I have to wear this?" the boy said, dismayed as he plucked in distaste at the cat-eared beanie.

"Because it's cute," reasoned Fuji with a flat stare and a smug expression on his face, before pulling the smaller boy on his feet. Ryoma was only about a few inches smaller than Fuji, but that didn't change the fact that he was indeed the _smallest_ in the crowd of elite players—yes, Kevin was taller than him an inch or so—and that this certain fact was the reason why Eiji _so_ enjoyed calling him the beloved _ochibi-chan_.

Ryoma whined yet again, snuggling his head against Fuji's warm chest, nestling his face against the earthy cinnamon scent of his unofficial lover and babysitter. "Syuuuusuke… why am I wearing this… this—costume?"

"Because I want to take pictures of you," explained the ever-smiling and ever-calm tensai. "You see, we have this project at school in the Arts Club. The club council decided that a contest is to take place, and we should use our photography skills to create a portfolio. There're lots of additional points to my other curricular subjects if I win or even manage to get into the top three portfolios submitted, so I chose you, my lucky charm, as my first model."

Ryoma pouted. "Atobe's there. He'd be more than happy."

"I don't want him. He's not my lucky charm," reasoned out Fuji. "Now, come, Ryoma-chan. I'm sure the others will be practically thrilled to see you in all your cuteness."

Ryoma wanted to profusely decline, but with Fuji pulling his arm, he had no choice. He knew very well how much of a sadist Fuji was, so he didn't want to get on the auburn-haired genius' bad side. It was actually good that Fuji was always favoring him. It made him feel safe, knowing that he had complete protection and utter immunity from everything else in the world. It was blissful life, really, what with Fuji there to guard on him, Tezuka there to love him, and Atobe there to attend to all his intrinsic needs.

But of course, that wasn't the only reason he was with Fuji. Oh, there was _so_ much more.

Ryoma, all the while pouting, dragged his legs to a certain pace behind Fuji, his arm held lightly by the tensai. They were clearly headed towards the common room, where all of them usually gathered after dinner to chatter and do whatever. As they stepped into the considerably brighter light, Ryoma stumbled after Fuji. The tensai guided him gently down the curved staircase, down to the circle where the other players were lounging around some finger foods spread on the middle table.

A gasp.

"OCHIBI-CHAN KAWAIIIIIIIIII!!!!" Eiji screeched.

Of _course_, Gakuto just _has_ to be louder.

"YUUUUUUSHI! TAKE A PICTURE, TAKE A PICTURE, TAKE A PICTURE! IT'S SO CUTE!!!!"

Fuji chuckles before hugging an ever-pouting Ryoma. "Kawaii ne, Tezuka?" the tensai quipped, steadying a straightforward gaze at the captain, who fought inwardly to maintain his façade. It never showed, though. At least, to everyone else except Fuji. Fuji knew a tempted captain when he sees one.

Jiroh lazily raised his head to look at the source of the commotion, blearily rubbing at his eyes before stretching his fisted hands and arms back. He heaved a huge yawn, before snuggling up to a very amused Atobe. "Ne, Kei-chan, I think the lace headwear was cuter."

A smug Atobe smirked. "But of _course_, Jiroh," he drawled, aware of all the questioning, bewildered glances sent his way. He took a sip of his martini, leisurely swirling the contents around in the transparent wine glass. "Ore-sama flew to Paris simply to personally hand out instructions for making a French maid outfit from head to toe, fitted only for Ryoma."

Ryoma scowled, annoyed at having been reminded of that particular uncouth memory. "Shut up, monkey king!"

"Keigo-bocchama," Oshitari quickly corrected with a light reprimanding tone. The blue-haired genius smirked. He knew all about this little story between Atobe and Ryoma, and he was damned if he didn't get his own chance of poking fun at the already disgruntled 15-year-old.

"Keigo-bocchama," Ryoma automatically corrected himself without thinking, before catching himself and blushing, all the while maintaining his scowl. "'Kuso. Shut UP!"

There was silence.

But of course, silence is too fragile to be maintained. Especially within the presence of these raving tennis players intensely demanding their answers.

So pandemonium reigned.

"NE, NE, NE, YUUSHI, DID YOU HEAR THAT? RYOMA STILL HASN'T GOTTEN OVER HIS LITTLE INCIDENT WITH ATOBE!" Gakuto screeched, gripping a blue-faced, choking Oshitari around the neck with his arms.

But of _course_, Eiji just _has_ to be louder.

"HUNYAAAAAAAAAAAA, OIIIISHI!!" yells the redhead, before clutching his beloved and similarly blue-faced doubles partner. "WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? RYOMA HAS A SECRET HISTORY WITH ATOBE? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? FUJI, THEN TEZUKA, AND NOW—" The redhead stopped for a dramatic effect, paling considerably, before screeching long and loud. "—**_ATOBE_**?!"

"Let's not forget Akutagawa Jiroh-san," Inui pointed out calmly, observing the events with detached interest, a familiar green notebook concealing half his face. So far.

Renji nodded in agreement, similarly holding a blue notebook.

"Nya," Eiji stopped short in realization. "A FIVESOME!"

"Ii data…" murmured Inui, nodding while scribbling quickly in his notebook. Thud. "Kaidoh? Kaidoh! Oi, Kaidoh fainted again!"

Murmurs broke out in the crowd of players at the redhead's comment. Apparently, no one knew about Atobe's shared past with Ryoma, apart from the Hyotei team and, surprisingly enough, a now laughing Kevin.

"You mean, you never told them, Ryoma?" Kevin managed to push out, before erupting into peals of laughter again.

Ryoma huffed and crossed his arms, the oversized sweater hiding the whole of the said limbs. "I didn't, and I don't plan to do so anytime soon."

"So it's true that you have a _secret_ history with Atobe?" Momoshiro whispered urgently. The whole crowd silenced, awaiting Ryoma's answer.

And there came the sarcastic drawl. "Momo-senpai, a secret is a secret and remains a secret even if three people share it, as long as two are _dead_," Ryoma started. "And obviously, _more than three people in this room knows_. So don't call it a '_secret history'_. Gives me the creeps."

"But why won't you _tell_?" whined Eiji, sidling over to where Ryoma was seated and sinking into the pouf beside Ryoma's. "Ochibiiiiiiiiiiii…"

"He won't _tell_ because he's… how did you put it?" Kevin stopped, pondering for a second. "Ah! Yes, because he's '_not particularly fond of the gauche memories_'."

"Oooooohhh…" came a collective reply from the crowd.

Then there was silence.

Eiji scratched his head. "Ne, Inui, what does _gauche_ mean?"

"Either of two meanings: ill-mannered or awkward," Inui answered almost immediately.

"And any buffoon can conclude that it most probably is the latter," snorted Kamio with a pointed look at Momoshiro.

"So it's an awkward memory."

There was silence again.

"I DON'T CARE IF IT IS! OCHIBI, DETAILS!" Eiji suddenly screamed, tackling Ryoma, who slid roughly to the floor with an 'oomph'.

"Eiji, don't hurt him!"

"I AGREE, DETAILS, DETAILS!"

"A-Ack—Eiji-sen—Gaku—senpai!"

"Gaki, that's what you deserve for keeping secrets from us!!!"

"I don't feel good," came a silent, gentle voice.

Everyone stopped.

"Fuji?" Tezuka asked, for the first time showing a noticeable trace of emotion in his face.

Ryoma frowned. _That's strange_, he thought. _Why is buchou apprehensive instead of worried?_

"I don't feel good," repeated the tensai, a slight frown marring the otherwise flawless perfect face of an angel. The tensai opened his eyes to reveal steel blue stormy eyes. And those eyes didn't reflect unease. Not at all.

Atobe gulped down his martini in one straight pull and shot up from the loveseat he treated as his throne, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs. "I'm going to bed. I lost track of time. I need my beauty sleep."

"_NOT_ until I drill some answers out of you, _Atobe_," hissed Fuji.

Ryoma gulped.

_Here we go._

* * *

Ryoma groaned along with his aching muscles, complaining at the daily relentless training he committed himself to, a price he had to pay for being an elite junior professional tennis player. 

After the messy incident earlier was efficaciously diffused by Nanjiroh—much to Fuji's disappointment, Atobe's relief, and everybody else's chagrin—they were all sent to sleep with slaps on the ass, as if they were a bunch of naughty little kids who'd done something wrong.

He pulled off his shirt and threw it haphazardly on the chair near his bed, before shrugging out of the ridiculously oversized pajamas. He collapsed on the bed with one short huff, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

It was tiring, sometimes, having to deal with his teammates and the other bunkmates he had to see everyday. He was glad that he was back, sure, but it got tiring too, on certain days.

Like right now.

It was tiring to deal with the relentless, abrasive questions asked by a clueless Eiji—futilely being restrained by a flustered Oishi—regarding his '_secret history_' with Atobe, as Momoshiro had unwittingly put it. He had to commend Oishi for staying strong beside Eiji. The redhead can be a _pain_ at times, being loud and nosy.

Besides, his '_secret history'_ with Atobe was something he did _not_ want to divest to the general public, mainly because it would destroy his own reputation and only serve to boost Atobe's for being able to persuade the elite Wimbledon champion to… _do_ all those… horrible things.

Ryoma shivered and rolled over, burrowing his face deeper into the pillow, before forcing unwanted thoughts out of his head and replacing them with thoughts of a certain bespectacled, auburn-haired captain, thoughts which slowly melded into pleasurable dreams.

* * *

Tezuka heaved a deep sigh as he trudged slowly through the darkened halls of the manor, heading towards the Bay Wing where his room, along with Ryoma's room and Atobe's suite de grandè. It was near midnight already, and he could make out faint shadows in the half-darkness through the hardly ample illumination provided by the half moon shining through the wall-spread windows of the manor. 

As far as he knew, everyone else was asleep—unless of course they were doing… _things_ during the sweltering seaside night. The captain was tempted to chuckle out loud at the word his favorite young prodigy and pillar had previously used, by the mention of Kevin.

He wasn't blind—he knew that Ryoma and Atobe had some kind of past connection that they either both talked about and decided to ignore, or that they both came to similar independent decisions to let the matter go or hide it away. He had noticed this long ago, and he was sure Fuji did too, but they both ignored this particular subject, realizing that it didn't much matter in the run-through.

_Fuji_.

Tezuka sighed yet again. He was halfway across the manor, and he was in The Cross Room, a room inside the manor that was basically a small waiting room with small, cute poufs and a circular table in the middle. It was called the 'Cross' room because all the four main hallways leading to the four main wings—North, South, East, and West or Bay—crossed there. The West wing was where almost all the suites and rooms were located, and where everybody slept.

Except for him, Ryoma, Fuji, Atobe, Yukimura, Sanada, and Kirihara.

He was with Ryoma and Atobe in the Bay Wing, and if he wasn't mistaken, Yukimura had a suite de grandè of his own in the North Wing, which he shared with Sanada and Yukimura. Fuji resided in a princely suite de grandè fit for two persons, due to his insistence to be nearer Ryoma. Tezuka occupied one of the two single suites in the West Wing, more commonly known as the Bay Wing because of being situated beside the bay, and the other single suite was occupied by Ryoma. Atobe had his suite de grandè's door a mere arm's breadth away from Ryoma's.

And that was the reason why Fuji relentlessly downright refused to be away from Ryoma. Apparently, the tensai had a nudging conviction—a suspicion of Atobe, and refused to let Ryoma alone in the presence of the manor's young master. Tezuka can see the tensai's reason, and he had to admit, he agreed wholeheartedly. He didn't trust Atobe one bit regarding the safety of his young charge—not from any other kind of danger, but from Atobe himself.

_Come to think of it_, the young captain thought as he was reminded of the conversation they had during the first day they set foot on the manor, when they had arranged the sleeping quarters and divided it evenly between all the occupants. The bespectacled young man stopped in his tracks, looking down on the expensive Persian rug beneath his feet. He was just about to exit the Cross Room and enter the Bay Wing. _What Ryoma had said that day… kind of matches with what they were saying earlier—he has a secret history with Atobe and its something we shouldn't ignore._

The captain reached a hand up in his hair, reminding himself of the earlier conversation. He was a very observant person, but he didn't like meddling with all the rowdy business of the other players. Therefore, whenever he notices that they are starting to heat up, he tends to be reclusive and pay less attention to avoid getting drawn.

_I have a feeling they were close before. I doubt that Ryoma was much different, though. I find it quite hard to imagine him being a non-sarcastic, non-acidic, completely harmless and cunning-free little boy. He can act cuddly and cute and sweet, but he won't be cunning-free, nor will he ever be non-sarcastic. That's an ingrained quality from growing up with Echizen Nanjiroh and surviving it._

He racked his brains for that previous conversation they had about two weeks ago. There was this nagging feeling that was pushing at him, and he couldn't very well ignore it, not when it concerned Ryoma.

His mind flashed back to the memory of that day.

_Atobe_ _sauntered into the front hall waiting room, flourishing his hand and flipping his hair in an attempt at a show of elegance, an elegance that was evenly matched—even topped—by the ever-smiling tensai Fuji. Of course, this was common knowledge, since Fuji_ _was a natural at everything. Atobe had years of practice in aristocracy, though, so he was never really far behind. _

_The Hyotei King stopped short in front of them. _

"_Welcome to the Atobe family's Odaiba Bayside Manor. Ore-sama has neither the motivation nor the patience to take you on a tour of the manor—doubtless, you are not worthy of such luxury spent in my awe-inspiring presence—so I am simply going to explain things quickly," the aplomb young master flaunted._

"_The East Wing, where the maids are going to lead you to later, is where the guest rooms and normal single suites are located. It's a long, sprawling Wing of this manor, and is the largest, longest Wing, since it extends up to land and it faces away from the beach. There are also several rooms in the North and West Wing. The West Wing is commonly known to the maids and workers as the Bay Wing obviously because it faces the bay, so don't confuse your poor little brains and kill the few remaining neurons inside."_

"_For goodness' sake, just get it over with," Ryoma grumbled aloud. He was the only one who got away with throwing snotty remarks at the princely Hyotei player._

"_We are currently in the South Wing, first floor. The South Wing is basically the huge entrance hall you saw earlier and this waiting room for visitors who aren't allowed immediately inside. The South Wing has no second floor. The East Wing first floors consist of the dirty kitchen and the living quarters of the maids and servants. The Bay Wing first floors hold the common room which opens to the backyard and the beach, as well as the common dining room, and the common kitchen. The North Wing first floors hold the library, and the formal dining room which is very rarely used. Feel free to use the library for studies. Feel free to tour yourselves, because ore-sama has better things to do."_

"_Where do we sleep, then?" Kamio asked._

"_The rooms in the East Wing—well, the West Wing is all rooms and quarters—have all been labeled with your names. The labels are on the doors, coded by color. Seigaku is red, Rikkaidai is yellow, Hyotei is pale blue, Fudou is black. There are some rooms that are single, some double. You'll have to share. It's good for teamwork and develop sensitivity to other people," Atobe smirked, flipping his hair back and basking in self-appraisal, having just said something smart._

"You _should share, you're the one who needs to learn what the word _sensitivity _means," snorted Ryoma loudly, not bothering to lower his voice as he sank deeper into Fuji_'_s arms. The young boy purred at the contact, not seeing the averted eyes of a certain grimacing Kevin._

"_Oh, ore-sama is sharing, alright. Ore-sama is in the Bay Wing's master suite de grandè with Jiroh. Ore-sama will be nearby, so if ever you need anything, Ryoma-chan, feel free to drop by. You know where to find ore-sama," crowed Atobe suggestively._

_Ryoma_ _simply snorted and turned his nose up, snuggling against a chuckling Fuji._

"_Oh yes, Yukimura, Tachibana, and Tezuka," added Atobe, calling the attention of the three other captains. "There are some suite de grandès reserved for you, if you prefer them. The grandès are located in the North Wing. Yukimura, yours is the first grandè to the right, and Tezuka's is the second on the left. Tachibana's is the last one. And before you get confused, the Cross Room is in the middle of all this. It's the joining point of all the manor wings, and its right up there," the Hyotei captain said, pointing up to the spiraling stairs._

"_I prefer to remain near my teammates, thank you," Tachibana refused gently and politely. "I don't indulge in luxuries just because I'm the captain."_

"_Ah, ever the righteous captain you are, eih, Tachibana-san?" goaded Momoshiro appraisingly._

"_I just want to remain with my team."_

"_That can be arranged," nodded Atobe. With a flick of his hand, he sent his butler to tend to the new development. "So no one will be using the grandè at the back of the North Wing. As ore-sama said earlier, ore-sama will be in the master suite in the Bay Wing. There will be maids stationed so you need not bother ore-sama at night. Ore-sama's faithful butler will be the only one who is allowed to disturb ore-sama's beauty sleeps—except for Jiroh-kun and Ryoma-chan, of course—so please direct everything towards the butler first. Don't even think of disturbing ore-sama's slumbers, or you'll be wishing for the relief of hell instead."_

_There was silence as eyebrows were raised and snorts were suppressed._

"_Saa, ore-sama shall retire for the tiring night. You are free to explore ore-sama's seaside mansion, so long as ore-sama doesn't get disturbed," Atobe primly finished his introductory speech._

_Loud yawns, groans, excited cheers, and boisterous laughter erupted from the silenced crowd as they all rose from their respected seats and slumps. One by one, they traipsed up the curved staircase carpeted with expensive French wine red rug, matching with the ruby-and-silver gilded metal handrails. As the teams started filtering through the different rooms in the West Wing—whoops and shouts erupted as the rich suites were revealed—Ryoma untangled himself from Fuji_ _and stretched._

_The young boy stood up, yawning, before dragging himself up the stairs. Fuji, Tezuka and Atobe followed silently. No word was spoken as they reached the Cross Room and separated._

_Fuji_ _stopped._

"_Wait."_

_They all stopped._

"_Ryoma-chan, where are you going?"_

_Ryoma_ _yawned again, scratching his head and messing up his already messed up hair. "My rooms. I want to go to sleep _now_," the boy answered shortly with a clipped tone, indicating that he didn't want to remain standing for long and wanted to hit the pillows as soon as possible._

_Fuji, on the other hand, had other things in mind._

_The tensai's smile freezed on his face._ "_Your rooms?"_

_Ryoma_ _blinked. "Hai. My rooms are in the Bay Wing."_

_Before Fuji_ _could start dropping questions on the sleepy first year's head, Atobe unwittingly interjected._

"_Ah, Ryoma, will you be taking advantage of your usual suites?"_

"_Aa."_

_Albeit slightly put off and confused, Fuji__recovered immediately. "Sou? Saa, Ryoma-chan… why don't you sleep with me? I'm sure _Atobe _here won't mind much," the tensai suggested, training steely, freezing cold blue orbs shining with a stormy mix of anger, possessiveness, and jealousy._

_Ryoma, of course, played the role of the blissfully oblivious cute and stubborn little kitten. "Yadda. I like my room better."_

_Atobe_ _smugly smirked at a frozen Fuji__threatening to explode any moment now. The outcome would either be of two: the slow but scorching flow of Fuji_'_s anger, or the sudden but fleeting flying rage. _

"_I think that's decided, then," Atobe chirped, before turning to Ryoma. "I didn't know if you'd prefer Egyptian cotton or silk in this weather, so I had the maids prepare both for you to be able to choose. I've laid out the usual colors, so there are no problems with that. Egyptian cotton is nice and cool, but silk feels wonderful on naked skin."_

"_Ii yo, I'll take silk like usual," Ryoma shrugged._

_Tezuka, always the middleman—even though inside he sided with Fuji—remained motionless until he decided it best to start calming Fuji down before the tensai unleashed his destructive and practically traumatizing anger on a clueless—well, not exactly—Atobe._

_Fuji_ _glared down Atobe, his eyes frozenly steeling at the sight of the intrusive Hyotei player. If looks could kill, Atobe would have died already, only to be followed down to hell by a vengeful Fuji and murdered again a million times over. But of course, Atobe paid no heed. Atobe paid no heed because he was a queer monkey immune from Fuji_'_s harm unless he was literally facing Fuji. But he was facing Ryoma._

"_Fuji," Tezuka warningly started, placing a hand on the tensai's shoulder. Ryoma looked up in bewilderment, seeing the apparent stormy anger in the elder player's eyes._

"_Syuusuke?"_ _Ryoma asked curiously, tilting his head to the side like a cat. When the blue-eyed genius refrained from answering and remained burning a hole through Atobe with his eyes, the curious cat turned to its captain. "Kuni-bu?"_

_Tezuka_ _invisibly flinched at the nickname Fuji_ _and Ryoma came up with for him. They had refused to call him 'Tezuka-buchou' or 'buchou' or even 'Kunimitsu' in private, and as such, turned towards making a new nickname for him. It was practically hell for the captain to have to withstand all the silly, sappy, stupid nicknames his two conniving lovers—one official and the other not—came up with. He shuddered to think if he was condemned to endure 'Cootie-pie'. He was more than happy to comply with 'Kuni-bu', short for 'Kunimitsu-buchou', instead of 'Cootie-pie'._

_Tezuka_ _unflinchingly stared back into those orbs of molten gold, trying his very hardest not to maul Atobe because of surging jealousy. Without sparing Atobe a glance and keeping his eyes trained intently in those beloved curious golden orbs, he tersely quipped, "I think it would be best if someone stays near Ryoma in case he needs something."_

I don't want him coming to **you**, or you coming **on**to him.

_The meaning wasn't lost on both parties, but the blissfully oblivious Ryoma pouted. "I'm grown up and fifteen, you know. And I'm potty trained."_

"_So you finally learned," muttered Atobe, sniggering uncharacteristically._

"_Urusai yo, monkey," snapped Ryoma, head swiveling sharply to glare at Atobe._

_Atobe_ _stopped sniggering, his eyebrow twitching twice. "I'm not a monkey."_

_Ryoma_ _snorted. "You're right. You're a monkey _king_."_

_Atobe_ _glared. "At least I'm potty trained," sneered the captain._

"_I said I was!" snapped Ryoma. The boy turned to his captain, whining. "Buchou! There's a monkey being mean to me!!"_

_Atobe_ _sputtered._

_Tezuka's_ _eyebrow twitched continuously, his eyes closed, as he crossed his arms and repeated his sentence. "I still think it would be best if someone stays near Ryoma in case he needs something."_

_Fuji smiled a shark smile, baring all fangs and leaving behind pretenses. "I think that would be for the best," the tensai slowly drew out. _

_Atobe was about to protest, but he met _ _Fuji__'s ultimate death glare right in the eyes and the words froze in his throat like water blasted with sub-zero air. He froze. Fuji smirked in satisfaction, before turning to look at Ryoma, connecting with the golden orbs just like Tezuka. _

_Atobe felt a little put off. He looked back and forth from Ryoma to _ _Fuji__ to Tezuka. _

_Silence. _

_Atobe huffed. "Fine. Tezuka, you'll be staying in the single grandè suite connected to Ryoma's room. _ _Fuji__ can take your room instead. I insist you two stay separate, though. I _do_ want to get some _peaceful, _noise-_free_ sleep." _

_"Right, and you'll be making the noise instead," Ryoma snorted in an undertone. With a second thought, he added, "With Jiroh-san." _

_Fuji__ smirked and nodded, ignoring Ryoma's snap at Atobe's lewd comment. "Said and done."_

Tezuka frowned in contemplation as his mind finished processing the thoughts. There was most definitely something off.

The captain shook his head, trying desperately to clear the fog clouding his mind, before moving forward once again, willing his legs to move. He wanted to get some sleep. Convincing Fuji to stop decimating his area in the manor was unbelievably hard, and for a moment there he thought he would get a taste of Fuji's infamous sadism.

There were a few points he enjoyed by being the captain, the most respected figure in the team. He never _ever_ had one experience where he was at the receiving end of Fuji's sadism. Ever. And he was thankful for that, considering what the previous victims are claiming. Ah, the perks of being at the top…

Tezuka shook his head once again, sighing. This was really a serious situation if he was thinking about such unnecessary things and wasting precious neurons over it.

Oh, he was going at it again.

_Damn it._

The captain stopped before his door, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key by its key holder. He fumbled with the key in the darkness, feeling for the right end, before reaching up and making a motion to stick it into its keyhole.

Until he heard a moan.

* * *

**Lemon Warning**

* * *

His ear perked and his hand paused, still holding the key by the hole. He turned around slightly towards the door beside his, which was slightly ajar.

Another moan.

_Ryoma…?_

That was certainly the boy's voice, and he sounded distressed. The captain's brow furrowed in worry as he retrieved his hand from the doorknob and slipped his key back into his pocket. He moved silently, his clothes rustling slightly, towards the door. He reached over and eased it open enough for him to see into the darkened room.

What met his eyes took his breath away.

There was the supposed _innocent_ young boy, bathed in blue moonlight streaming through the partly open sliding glass door leading to the patio, the ocean breeze bringing the whispers of the sea into the room. The curtains were wide open, he observed, and they rustled in the warm tropic air. A shirt was haphazardly strewn over a chair near the bed, and pajama pants were pooled on one side of the bed. Apparently, the occupant was in a hurry to get to sleep.

The said boy was on the bed, barely amply covered by the liquid silk sheets covering the bed. The boy was writhing in some nightmare—

"_Buchou…_"

—or not.

The single word, carried to his ears by the whispering wind, was breathed out in such an alluring, erotic manner that Tezuka declined to believe that the boy was having a _nightmare_. Right now, he was more likely to believe that the boy was having _the time of his life_.

Tezuka moved forward, leaning over the still writing boy—and he _admired_ himself for maintaining his steel resolve and superior self-control—and placed a hand on one sweaty, bare shoulder. The feel of the slick skin sent shivers up and down his spine, the burning hot feeling creeping down to his nether regions. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"Ryoma. Wake up."

"Buchou…" the boy moaned, the black head whipping towards the voice. Apparently, the boy was merely half-asleep. Arms suddenly shot forth, wrapping around Tezuka's bent neck and pulling him forward. The captain lost his balance—rather uncharacteristically, at that—and toppled on top of the squirming boy with a muffled sudden release of breath.

And then the boy did it.

Ryoma wrapped his arms around Tezuka's larger, stronger form, pulling himself up and arching into the well-built chest. Smaller hips slid against larger ones. Tezuka gasped silently, biting down on his lower lip and drawing blood as he tried to maintain his slipping self-restraint. He was starting to get aroused already.

Ryoma arched up again, his head falling back against the pristine white silk-encased pillow. Tezuka momentarily marveled at the startling contrast of Ryoma's emerald-tinged black hair against the blue-tinged white sheets. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were flushed, and his mouth was slightly parted in wanton desire.

Scratch that, he _was_ aroused already.

"Buchou…" the boy breathed yet again. Tezuka groaned as Ryoma slid his hands up and down his back, one trailing dangerously low as it traced down his spine. "Onegai…"

Okay, goddamn it, he wasn't just aroused—he was as horny as a satyr in spring!

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god… take me away from temptation, oh god…_

Tezuka ranted in his mind, temporarily taking his consciousness away from the pleading morsel of delight writhing underneath him. He cleared his mind and grabbed the boy's hips, pushing them down against the bed and receiving a sharp groan of protest.

"Ryoma, listen, you've got to—"

And then, it all came down to him.

He _couldn't_ say the word.

_He's too young._

Ryoma panted, his head whipping to the other side, baring a luscious neck for Tezuka to devour.

_Please, god, stop tempting me…_

The thought of doing it with the boy—_forbidden_—in a house full of people—**_forbidden_**—just a few doors down_—**FORBIDDEN**_—just sent a stronger thrill down his already throbbing cock.

"Buchou…" the boy panted, releasing warm puffs of breath that trickled against Tezuka's skin like burning ice. Ryoma thrust his hips upward, earning a hiss from his captain from the pleasurable friction. "_Onegai, onegai…_"

Tezuka stared at the boy.

Ryoma's pink tongue slipped out of his mouth as the boy leaned up against Tezuka, pressing their bodies flush against each other, dragging a slow path up the column of the captain's throat.

_Well, fuck._

His mind shut down.

The captain pinned the smaller boy down on the bed with his weight, capturing the boy's lips in a searing, possessive kiss. He slipped his tongue in as the boy voluntarily opened his mouth, gently touching and twining with the boy's, never breaking contact. Ryoma pawed desperately against Tezuka, clawing at the obtrusive clothing the captain was wearing.

The boy practically tore away Tezuka's polo shirt, discarding it to some mundane corner of the room and returning his attention to the newly bared territory laid out in front of him. Like a hungry cat pouncing on its prey, Ryoma greedily hooked his arms around the captain's torso, pulling himself up once again and arching into the larger form.

Skin against slick skin, both of them groaned at the much-needed contact. Ryoma purred at the feel of Tezuka's cool hands flattening themselves against his back, one splayed and caressing treacherously down his lower back. He shivered pleasantly at the contrast of their skin; flushed hot against smooth cool.

Ryoma pushes out a loud whine of protest as Tezuka left his mouth, breaking their liplock with a parting nip at his bottom lip. The whine quickly melded and transformed into a moan of bliss as Tezuka attached his mouth on one stone-hard nipple, sucking, nipping and licking mercilessly at the puckered skin. The boy moaned helplessly, pawing at the captain's back.

"Buchou…" the boy breathily moaned, burying his hands into Tezuka's golden brown locks.

Tezuka left the nipples with another parting nip, leaving hot, wet, glistening trails of open-mouthed kisses down Ryoma's toned six-pack abs and swirled his tongue around the cute little navel. Finally, with a scorching breath against heated anticipating skin, Tezuka placed his mouth against a secret little patch of skin behind the boy's balls. Ryoma gasped at the intimacy of the action, bucking his hips so that those wicked lips would move.

Tezuka chuckled breathily in his throat, before letting his mouth dance around the boy's balls and the base of the throbbing cock before him. The blanket previously covering the boy's naked form lay long forgotten on the floor, the silky substance sultry glistening under the moonlight. Ryoma simply let go. At one point, he heard himself moan at a particularly tantalizing nip at a particularly tantalizing patch of skin on his cock, loud enough for the next room's occupants to hear.

But he just couldn't seem to be bothered by that particular fact.

In truth, this fact simply pushed the thrill. Higher.

His cock throbbed in indignation. He wanted to be touched and loved and lavished. He wanted to _feel_. But his partner was lavishing _so much_ attention to the skin surrounding the cock and the base of it and ignored the aforementioned altogether.

"Buchou, _please!_"

The boy groaned out loud as Tezuka moved away.

"Please, please…"

Tezuka nipped lightly at Ryoma's inner thigh, leaving a small, red mark. "Patience, my kitten," the husky voice came. Apparently, Tezuka was clearly as far gone into this as he was.

But the captain contradicted his own words by leaning down and slowly licking the pre-cum off the tip of the smaller boy's erection. Ryoma keened at the foreign sensation, reveling on the sheer pleasure one small action brought. He could've come then and there.

"Buchou, I—I…"

"Shhh…"

Tezuka pressed two outstretched fingers against Ryoma's lips, as if to emphasize his point. The boy, taking advantage of the position, immediately pulled the fingers into his mouth and eagerly sucked, lathing and massaging them with his tongue. Tezuka pictured in his mind that it was his cock Ryoma was sucking, and his erection throbbed painfully. He reached down with his other hand and started pumping Ryoma, finding the boy adjusting to his rhythm and matching it with his sucking.

Ryoma, naturally as curious as a cat, pondered absently as he continuously ravished his captain's fingers how good this felt right now. He was still half-asleep, but the sensations felt real as hell. He had never in his life touched himself. Oh, he knew about what happened, alright, they'd gotten over "the birds and the bees" talk long ago—with Nanjiroh as one's father, one is not destined for an innocent life. But Ryoma never really _touched_ himself, because… well, he didn't want to imagine himself the same as his lecherous, good for nothing, epitome of stupidity of a father.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Tezuka suddenly withdrew his fingers. Ryoma whined as he felt Tezuka's mouth retreat as well.

"Open," the captain said as he nudged the boy's legs apart.

Ryoma opened his legs wider to accommodate Tezuka, and the captain hooked the boy's legs over his shoulder. Tezuka trailed soft, butterfly kisses down Ryoma's inner thigh, one hand still stroking and teasing Ryoma's erection while the other circled around Ryoma's puckering hole. Tezuka slowly inserted one long slender finger into Ryoma and the boy freezes, fully awakening.

Tezuka stops his ministrations and lifts his head, looking the now awake boy in the eyes. "Relax, Ryoma. I promise it'll feel good."

Ryoma stared at his captain for a moment, his eyes glazing as if lost, before taking a gulp and nodding. The boy relaxed back against the pillows, letting his captain in be control. Tezuka wiggled the long finger inside of Ryoma as if searching for something, and the boy fought to keep still and not squirm under the intensely uncomfortable feeling down there. He was about to tell Tezuka off when a sudden wave of pleasure hit him. His mouth dropped open and he leaned back, jerking his hips in unadulterated pleasure.

"Oh god…"

He could feel Tezuka smiling against his thighs as the captain stroked the spot once again. He mewled. Tezuka decided that it was finally time to pay attention to Ryoma's neglected erection, so the older boy lifted his head and engulfed the shaft in one go, pulling in air in a sucking motion as he bobbed his head up and then back down again. Ryoma cried out and jerked his hips, feeling Tezuka's free hand gripping and pushing them down. His breath hitched as he felt Tezuka add another finger, and he winced at the slight pain.

As he looked down at his captain's bobbing head, he forgot the pain of the second finger moving inside him, forcing his opening wide. He was definitely aroused by the sight of his captain's flushed cheeks and fogged glasses, and the golden brown head bobbing up and down on his cock. He groaned as he threw his head back, approaching his climax.

"Buchou!" he cried out, thrusting against the back of Tezuka's throat and letting go. He marveled at how Tezuka didn't choke at that last thrust, but that thought was pushed away quickly from his mind for further prying. Right now, important matters were waiting.

After cleaning the boy up, Tezuka moves back, his glasses still slightly fogged. Ryoma whined loudly at the loss of heat, pulling and tugging at Tezuka, bringing him back down.

"Don't go!"

"Ryoma, I-I can't…" muttered Tezuka, averting his eyes from the boy. Even though, Ryoma noticed the familiar iron will of his captain and knew that the elder player was probably bitching at himself.

So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He flipped them over.

"Buchou…" Ryoma breathed against Tezuka's ear, licking his earlobe lightly. "Stay…" he said, running his lips against Tezuka's delicate skin. "I promise I'll be good…" the boy muttered, sucking and leaving a hickie on Tezuka's collarbone. "So please don't leave me…" he murmured, going back up to Tezuka's face and sealing their lips into a heated kiss.

Tezuka groaned.

Ryoma grinned, placing a soft kiss against Tezuka's lips. "I'll be good…" the boy said, pulling off the glasses and smiling wickedly. "You just have to teach me how…" Ryoma muttered, pulling Tezuka into a deeper kiss and grinding himself against Tezuka's bulging cloth-covered erection. "You know you want me… you want _this_…"

Ryoma grinned and reached down to unbutton Tezuka's pants.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to."

The boy stubbornly pouted at his captain, before flashing him a reassured smile. The elder player acquiesced.

_Kami, please forgive me for my selfishness…_

Ryoma released Tezuka's erection from its confines and marveled at the size, wide-eyed. Tezuka abashedly blushed, looking away slightly. But when Ryoma dove in and fully took the cock into his mouth, that was when the captain screwed his eyes shut and fell back against the bed, groaning wildly. He clutched at the silk sheets—which kept on slipping from his grasp—when Ryoma swirled his tongue around the head and teased the slit, his toes curling in pleasure.

Tezuka hissed one word sharply. "Fuck…"

In his mind, though, he was ranting endlessly.

_Fuck, his mouth feels so good. Fuck, he's an exceptionally fast learner. Fuck, he's a natural. Fuck, he has the potential to be better than _ _Fuji__. Fuck, this will probably end up the best blowjob in my life ever. Fuck, he's only fifteen. Fuck, I've destroyed his innocence. Fuck, I don't want to let him go. **Fuck**, I am **so** going to hell!_

Ryoma released Tezuka with a 'pop', smirking surreptitiously at Tezuka. "Heeeh, I never knew buchou knew how to swear…"

"Mada mada da ne, Ryoma. If you continue what you're doing right now, you might find out about more things you don't know about me," Tezuka shot back with a smirk of his own.

Ryoma pouted and spouted off a silent 'che' before immediately diving back into his ministrations on Tezuka's cock. Ryoma marveled at how he was able to pull out reactions from Tezuka. He rejoiced at the fact that he was the only one who could do this. He didn't know what happened, but another moment, Tezuka was driving into him, and he had suddenly learned how to relax his mouth against the onslaught he was going under. He didn't complain.

Faster and faster they went, until Tezuka was convulsing in his mouth and he was licking and sucking off remnants of the load the captain had released from his climax. There was a moment of silence and lots of licking, before Tezuka hauled the boy up and dove in for a kiss.

"Ne, so, how did I do?"

"Mada mada da ne."

Tezuka smirked.

Ryoma pouted, muttering another small 'che', before trailing kisses down Tezuka's already marked throat. "Guess I'll have to try harder, ne, buchou?" Ryoma grinned seductively.

The two of them ground into each other at the same time, making each other moan into their leisurely kisses. Tezuka carefully mapped Ryoma's body, marking it as his own as he went around, particularly paying attention to two firm butts and the hole in between that was aching and puckering and waiting for him.

He slipped one finger in again and soon it Ryoma was reduced once again into a whimpering puddle of arousal.

Ryoma whimpered. "Buchou…"

"Shh. Patience. I have to get you ready."

A whine. "But I'm _more_ than ready."

"Not here," chuckled Tezuka, licking the precum off his slit. "Here." Ryoma squeaked at the feel of the wet, rough texture that was Tezuka's tongue, jumping in surprise that made Tezuka chuckle in amusement.

"Bu-buchou!" sputtered the boy, who was now sporting a body blush.

Tezuka didn't answer. Instead, the captain continued to lick at the puckering hole, before raising his head and looking at the drawer beside the table. He reached for the massaging oil—the one he had used on the boy when he had a cramp—and smeared the substance on his fingers and around Ryoma's hole. He also spread some on his already throbbing cock.

He noticed that when the oil cooled, it felt like creeping cold fire, and it felt _good_ against skin. He inserted and wiggled one finger inside Ryoma, the boy knowing to relax and accept the intruder, until it found the bunch of nerves that made Ryoma coil in pleasure. He inserted another one, stretching the boy and hitting the prostate every time.

Tezuka pulled his fingers out, and Ryoma suddenly felt the oil inside him cool with the air, feeling the burning seeping cold fire against his skin. The boy groaned.

"Buchou, please…" whimpered the boy, shaking in need.

"Gomen ne, Ryoma… this is going to hurt a bit more," muttered Tezuka. Ryoma nodded resolutely, albeit a bit hurriedly, and that was all Tezuka needed.

The captain sheathed himself in one solid thrust, impaling the boy on his erection, before groaning in bliss. It was all he could do so as not to pound himself into the smaller boy. Ryoma cried out and whimpered in the midst of the confusion between pain and pleasure. After a few minutes of kisses and comforting touches—and torturing self-restraint on Tezuka's part—Ryoma started wiggling around, trying to get comfortable. Tezuka simply gritted his teeth and bore it; by _gods_, he was _tighter_ than Fuji!

But he knew that his little kitten had to get used to it first, so he simply bore it. Ryoma's squirming slowly turned more pleasurable in place of the discomfort and he experimented with a slight jerk of his hips. He let out a mewl, and that was all it took for Tezuka to start moving. Ryoma hissed and mewled and pawed at Tezuka like an animal freed of restraints every time the elder hit and stroked his prostate.

Tezuka thrust into Ryoma, willing himself to steel his self-control, slowly picking up the pace, faster and faster and faster. The boy underneath him moved in perfect sync, groaning and moaning at every contact, lips locking at every inch of skin available. He gasped as Ryoma's muscles gripped tighter down on him and he started pounding into the boy mercilessly, watching an erotic scene before him as Ryoma threw his head back and gasped, baring his neck. His eyes were half-lidded and glazed in pleasure, his cheeks flushed and his lips glistening and parted ever so slightly for allowance of breath.

And then suddenly, they were joined in the zenith of pleasure, riding the waves, never letting go until the last possible moment when the bright white blinding light burned them and crumbled them to ashes. RYoma cried out in ecstasy, joining with the groan from Tezuka.

There was silence.

Heavy breathing and pants resounded through the silent room as they recovered, still clinging to each other. Slowly, Tezuka slid out of Ryoma, rolling over to his side and draping a possessive arm around Ryoma's sweat-slicked body. They basked in the afterglow of their union, neither one saying a word.

"Ne, buchou…"

"Hmm?"

"…still mada mada?"

Tezuka's lips quirked. "There is definitely room for improvement."

Ryoma smirked impishly. "So you'll teach me?" the boy turned expectantly.

Tezuka smirked back. "I'll have you call me _sensei_ next time."

Ryoma chuckled lightly, snuggling into Tezuka's open arms.

Neither noticed the door that was partly left open, nor the small red dots of light inconspicuously scattered around the room, pointing at the bed.

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

……………what an INSANELY LOOOOOOOOOONG chapter!

Whew! My hands are a bit sore.

Oh, and an interesting chapter is waiting for you up next. And did you see the sneak peek? Nyehehe, think what you will of it, but surely you get the gist...?

Ehem, reminder…

**ADVANCE Warning(s): Graphic lemon in the next chapter as well.** _These are not pointless lemons. I put them here to please the yaoi fans. Rest assured, there **will** be a plot._

Just wanted to repeat that again.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_12.30.06 _


	14. Step Fourteen: The Tensai's Turn

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Ah, the previous chapter received quite a welcome. I see lemons do the trick. Nishishishi…

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s): **A bit of language here and there. Reference to mature themes.

**ADVANCE WARNING(S): Lemon in the next chapter. The lemon is moved out of this chapter and into the next chapter! **

**Note:** **_These are not lemons without plots._ I am not a PWP **(Porn Without Plot)** writer and therefore will not put any in this story.**These lemons will be quite a factor to the plot following the events. I will not put in pointless lemons in this story, but I _will_ elaborate for the sake of the yaoi fans. I want to be as impartial as I can, so I will also keep in mind putting warnings for the more sensitive readers.

**Note:** I will now officially announce that this story is OOC (Out of Character), or at the very least will include OOC-ness in the future. I have to be careful and warn you guys. Most of you are saying that my characters are incredibly in character, and thank God I manage that, but I want to warn you that OOC-ness is _not impossible_. Besides, right now, Ryoma _is_ being a tad bit OOC.

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** If you want to be notified of changes/updates regarding my stories, **please join my mailing list.** It will come in handy during times like these, when FF.N is being an arse and won't send alerts to your inboxes. **Please go to my profile. The link is in the "Contact Me" section.** Thank you.

* * *

**Step Fourteen: The Tensai's Turn**

* * *

A bright ray of sunlight peaked through the clouds as the morning sun smiled down on a not-so-modest mansion beside Odaiba Bay, watching the hustle and bustle of another morning of a hectic training day. It was Sunday, and Sundays are supposed to be spent as holidays. But holidays are non-existent for a certain former pro tennis player slash coach.

"HORA, SEISHOUNEN-TACHI!! GET YOUR LAZY ASSES OUT OF BED!"

The loud voice rang through the entire house as Nanjiroh went up the stairs, clanging a metal frying pan and a wooden stick on the way, and making one hell of a noisy ruckus.

"Wake up! Hora, wake up!" yelled Nanjiroh. "Lazy butts up! Hora, hora, hora! No sleeping in! We have a bright new training day in front of us!!"

It was as if the house itself groaned with the players as they pulled themselves out of bed and made noises of protests, either from the harsh wake-up call or the prospect of another gruesome training day waiting ahead of them. In most cases, it was both.

Nanjiroh grinned as he bypassed the Bay Wing, careful to avoid a certain room which had a door ajar. He knew all too well what happened the last night. He _accidentally_ overheard the ruckus the previous night when he went out for a midnight snack and some beer. Sometimes, rooming in the Bay Wing near his son is quite advantageous. Ah, his son was growing up so fast…

The coach grinned like a madman, standing in the center of the Cross Room. He watched as the players slowly started filtering out of their cocoons and blearily making their way down the halls and the stairs to the dining room where a sumptuous, protein-rich breakfast awaited them.

"Come, come, seishounen-tachi!" ushered Nanjiroh. "Breakfast is waiting!"

At the prospect of breakfast, a couple of faces lit considerably.

"_Breakfast!_" cheered a suddenly awake Momoshiro. " _FOOD_"

"Yes, Momoshiro. Breakfast means food," Kamio flatly dictated, as if talking to an incomprehensive two-year-old. The redhead was, as he had previously put it, _unlucky_ enough to be stuck with Momoshiro as his roommate. True, the suite was big enough for three people even if there were only two beds inside, but a place can never be too big for the two of them. After all, Kamio was almost as much a rival to Momoshiro as Kaidoh was and still is.

Each player one by one slowly dragged themselves down the stairs, careful not to trip on the rug—even if it was perfectly smooth, you can never really say, what with such clumsy people around—and sat themselves around the long table laden with silverware and food fit for a feast.

As Fuji descended the stairs with Atobe, Yukimura, Sanada, Kirihara, Jirou and Tachibana trailing behind him, he stopped short. He stared at the food laid out on the table and frowned.

"What's the matter, Fuji-kun?" voiced Yukimura, noting the unrest on the tensai's shoulders.

Fuji continued to frown silently as the other players started converging on the table and eagerly starting to devour the food laid out in front of them.

"Western-style," Fuji noted.

Atobe nodded proudly. "Western-style, yes. To be more precise, it's a European-style breakfast, Polish style. Ore-sama specified the menu myself, so ore-sama assures you, it will be good, even if you're not used to it."

Fuji chuckled dryly. "I'm very much used to western food, Atobe, especially European. You seem to have forgotten that I have an uncle in Paris and I spent a couple of years there during my childhood. My uncle loves gourmet, and we eat out a lot in different kinds of restaurants. You're not the only one who has an aristocratic upbringing here, you know," Fuji remarked rather scathingly. Then his tone turned silent. "Demo sa… Atobe…"

"Hmm? Is there a problem about ore-sama's menu?" Atobe asked sharply.

Fuji shook his head. "No, not that. It's just that… didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Ryoma hates western-style food. Especially for breakfast."

Kirihara simply rolled his eyes and walked off, followed by an emotionless Sanada. Yukimura simply chuckled, before proceeding towards his waiting reserved permanent seat. Everyone knew their seats by now. Jirou, still yawning blearily, rubbed his eyes as he walked forward, tipping side to side shakily as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Don't worry, Fuji, I quite know that Ryoma hates western-style food. He will have his separate breakfast, of course. Japanese style. Grilled fish and rice with tomatoes, his favorite," replied Atobe as he and Fuji walked towards the table…

…only to find Tezuka and Ryoma's seat both empty.

"Where are they?" Yukimura asked, settling himself down on his seat beside Fuji.

Atobe simply smirked and Fuji remained expressionless, hiding behind his mask. He sat down on his seat and patiently waited for his two companions. He never started eating before the two arrived. Instead of starting on his own breakfast, he resorted to glaring at a certain rich young master sitting at the head of the table two seats away from him.

The blue-eyed tensai slowly opened his eyes, revealing scathing orbs glaring down Atobe. In a rather intense fit of unexplainable, discomfiting jealousy, Fuji almost let go of the restraint he held over his ire. Though he would admit that envy wasn't a new thing and that these fits started being more common ever since he started eyeing Ryoma, he still couldn't fathom _why_ he was so jealously livid over Atobe, when the epitome of wealth did nothing but simply sidle beside and tease Ryoma all the time. It was as if there was something to be jealous of, when there was none. After all, he had the privilege to do _much_ more.

"It's gut instinct, Fuji-san," pinned a slightly sleepy voice beside him. His head whipped around from Atobe's face, his eyes settling on a mop of blonde hair. Kevin forked a piece of his omelet and brought it to his mouth, chewing carefully.

"Pardon?"

"Gut instinct," repeated Kevin with a low voice, pointing his fork at Atobe. "You're irritated at him for no ostensible reason except for your gut instinct. You feel like there's a reason you should be jealous or wary of him even if there isn't. Well, maybe there is. You just don't know it yet."

"Gut instinct, huh," Fuji chuckled under his breath. "They say a tensai's gut instinct is _never_ wrong."

"That's true," shrugged Kevin.

Fuji glanced at the boy beside him. It was evident that Kevin was no longer a child. From what he'd heard, the blonde never really had a childhood to cherish, and from that information, one can easily deduce that the person grew up way before he should.

"You mean there's _really_ a reason I _should_ be jealous?" Fuji clarified, raising an eyebrow. "You agreed that a tensai's gut instinct is never wrong."

"Ask Ryoma yourself, Fuji," Kevin spoke. "I swore to him that I won't spread stories about anything he shared to me unless he gives me permission. The oath goes both ways. Or if he won't answer, find out by yourself. I'm sure you can manage. You're a tensai, aren't ya?"

Kevin smirked up at him, before returning to his food silently. Fuji noticed that the blonde has been increasingly silent for the last few days. In fact, most of the players in the mansion noticed that Kevin was slowly dipping into silence ever since he came. Nobody mentioned it or commented on it, but Fuji was sure everybody noticed it. It was too hard not to miss, with the normally rambunctious nature of the blonde youth.

Fuji sighed. He supposed everybody knew by looking what Kevin's dilemma was. He just hoped and prayed inside—and he was sure the others did too—that Kevin would find his cure soon.

And that Ryoma doesn't do anything indubitably stupid before that.

There was a commotion when Tezuka and Ryoma came down. Tezuka—according to Fuji's constantly accurate scrutiny—was in an unusually good mood. Ryoma dragged himself behind his captain, looking quite tired but smiling slightly nonetheless. Nanjiroh snickered behind his hand as he watched from the end head of the table, opposite Atobe.

Ryoma slunk eagerly over to his seat, sinking down before almost unnoticeably wincing as his butt hit the wooden chair, even though it was cushioned. Inwardly, the boy cursed the thin cushions and noted that he needed to ask Atobe to add thicker cushions to the chair. Kevin glanced over, alarmed, but suppressed himself. Apparently, the boy was constantly reminding himself that he wasn't the one to take care of Ryoma any longer, and that the said player already had somebody else.

Tezuka, slightly concerned, placed a hand on Ryoma's shoulder as he sat down. Ryoma simply yawned widely, ignoring the hand, looking deeply tempted to go back to sleep.

"Sleep well, Ryoma?" smirked Atobe with an underlying sneer, as if hinting another meaning. The dubbed monkey king found himself on the receiving end of a deep, scathing glare. He raised both hands up in a sign of surrender. "I'm just asking."

Momoshiro chuckled. "And here I thought the gaki is in a good mood today. Guess I'm wrong."

Kaidoh snorted. "What's new?"

Kamio agreed. "Yeah, you're _always_ wrong."

"Shut it," snarled Momoshiro, picking off a grape from the fruit bowl on the table and sharply thrusting it with his fingers towards Kamio's forehead.

"Ow!"

Atobe chuckled, shaking his head. _Apparently, the eggheads are filled with too much 'eggheadedness'—is there even such a word?—to catch ore-sama's meaning. _

Fuji, however, was too smart for his own good. The tensai immediately caught the double meaning and chuckled under his breath. _Too bad. Tezuka got to him first. Who would've thought the respectable captain_ _was__ susceptible to temptation too?_

Kevin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally catching up with the conversation. He shook his head, attempting to clear himself of obstructive emotions. It was training day today, and he didn't need distractions. He didn't catch Fuji's and Atobe's concerned fleeting stares.

Ryoma pouted as Fuji continued chuckling under his breath. "What's so funny, Syuusuke?"

Atobe raised an eyebrow. It was the first time Ryoma ever used Fuji's first name in public.

"Nandemonai yo, Ryoma-chan," hummed Fuji, placing a small kiss on Ryoma's forehead. "Eat up, you'll need your energy. Nanjiroh-sensei said that it's regular training day today."

Ryoma grumbled, good mood destroyed. "You didn't have to remind me so early."

However, Nanjiroh's voice raised right after Fuji's remark, covering perfectly the young player's voice. "Minna-san, the three new players from Fudou will be joining us starting today."

"Heh, really?"

"But won't that make our number uneven? There are 31 players and 10 blocks. Kevin currently doesn't have a block," Inui pointed out.

"Sou, sou," Renji nodded, following up. "Adding the three new players would make us 34, but that would have 11 blocks, and still, one player would be left out."

"Well, then, since they're all first-years, we can improvise and put the four of them into the eleventh block!" Nanjiroh quipped. "Kevin, Toushi, Asuka, and Shinichi."

Just as Nanjiroh finished announced the new development, the butler ushered in the three freshmen who were already in gear, their bags in tow.

The blonde boy named Asuka cheerfully bounded up front and greeted them. "Ohayou, senpai-tachi! Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!" he grinned.

"Ou, ou, Asu-chin!" waved Eiji, before beckoning the freshman to the empty seat beside him. "Eat first!"

"AHHHH! I'm so touched—Eiji-senpai remembered my name!!!!" the boy all but screeched, grabbing hold of Shinichi, who unfortunately was beside him, and wringing the other boy's neck.

A blue-faced Shinichi tried prying himself away from Asuka as the rest of the table laughed.

"Ja, why don't you re-introduce yourselves first before you sit down?" Nanjiroh instructed.

"Hai! My name's Aoya Asuka, first year, avid fan of Kikumaru Eiji! Yoroshiku!" the cheerful blonde saluted, finally letting go of a hacking Shinichi. His cropped blonde hair stood on end, some long fringes framing the whole of his face. Blue eyes sparkled with delight as he bounced up and down.

With a glare, Shinichi straightened up, his blue-tipped black hair ruffled. The boy had three earrings on his left ear, and two on his right. His black eyes sparkled with slightly hidden mischief, tinged with a deep ocean blue. "I'm Oka Shinichi. First year, Fudou Koto Gakkou. Yoroshiku."

"Mou, don't be like that, Shin! Show more enthusiasm!" prodded Asuka. Shinichi nudged the blonde boy away.

"And… the white-haired one is…?" Atobe prompted. All eyes shifted towards the silent figure standing a bit behind the two other boys, arms crossed, face in a neutral expression.

"Kairou Toushi, first year," the young player said politely, his voice smoothly cascading over the silence. The short fringes of his silvery white hair fell slightly over his frozen cerulean eyes, but he appeared not to mind. The rest of his hair stood up on end, definitely longer than Asuka's blonde locks, but it didn't have the gelled or sprayed look. It seemed natural.

"Good, good," nodded Nanjiroh, before motioning towards Kevin. "Kevin, why don't you introduce yourself to your new blockmates?"

Kevin swiveled his eyes from Nanjiroh back to the three first years, before smiling amiably. "Kevin Smith, first year transferee from the U.S. Yoroshiku ne?"

Asuka answered with a loud, boisterous 'ou', while Shinichi simply smiled and nodded. The two immediately headed for the two vacant seats between Eiji and Renji. But Toushi had other ideas.

"Kevin Smith as in Kevin Smith, Roland Garros 2007 Champion and Australian Open 2007 Champion?" he prodded, raising an eyebrow.

Kevin cocked his head sideways, smirking slightly. "Yes, but you needn't do a biography on me."

"Just making sure," nodded the silver-haired player, before shutting his mouth. He made a beeline for the remaining vacant seat beside Kevin, who simply smiled and went back to his food.

Out of the blue, Ryoma snorted, smiling slightly. "So I worried for nothing. Thank goodness."

Fuji smiled at the silent comment Ryoma made, Tezuka nodding in understanding. Atobe simply placed his chin thoughtfully in his palm, forking a piece of his omelet into his waiting mouth with a small smile.

"Did you say something?" Momoshiro voiced from a few seats away on the opposite side, his question directed at the yawning golden-eyed boy.

"Nope, nothing," Ryoma muttered, stretching his back before yawning again. He rubbed his lower back.

Atobe raised an eyebrow. "Ryoma?" the ever-gallant Hyotei captain said, voice tinted with a bit of eloquent condescendence. Apparently, he wasn't referring to Kevin.

Ryoma replied with a flat stare. "_Ich bin fein_," the boy voiced flatly, calling the attention of more than half the table. _I'm fine. (Ryoma and Atobe mindspeak: Don't say anything, or I'll pummel you to hell.)_

Tezuka's hands had stilled in midair. _What had possessed Ryoma to utter those words? And in German nonetheless._

Atobe sighed in exasperation. "Ryoma."

The aforementioned gave a sulky glare to the former and the former held the gaze in a silent battle of will for a moment.

The side of Atobe's mouth quirked upwards a fraction of a centimeter, before he raised a delicate eyebrow. "Well?" Atobe followed up. _You really should accept my offer, since you're asking something of me too. I know what you did last night, after all._

Ryoma twitched, catching full meaning of the well veiled threat. "Fine," grumbled the boy. _I better not see copies of those videos being distributed. _

Atobe smiled a full smile, reveling at the curious silence blanketing the table. "Very well, then," he said, motioning the manservant. "I'll have it ready."

"No, no, after," Ryoma quickly amended.

Atobe raised _both_ eyebrows. "You sure?"

The boy huffed, crossing his arms. "_Ich bin nicht zebrechlich_." _I'm not fragile. (Read: I don't need a monkey taking care of me.)_

Atobe snorted. _I wasn't saying you were fragile. (Read: I didn't say you needed a monkey to take care of you. You need _me_ to take care of you.) _

Nevertheless, Atobe nodded to the manservant. "You heard him."

The manservant bowed his way out of the dining room, followed by three maids who, as they stepped out of the room, started hustling about under the orders of the majordomo. Fuji cast a questionable glance towards Atobe, before turning to Ryoma. There was some kind of secret conversation between the two elite players, and Fuji didn't like the way it sounded. Neither did Tezuka. Neither of the two were stupid, and they understood German quite fluently, especially on the Seigaku captain's part. Fuji knew bits and pieces of German from his reading sprees and from their visit to Tezuka during junior high school.

"Ryoma-chan?" Fuji asked silently as the rest of the table started murmuring and returned to their meals.

Ryoma smiled up at the tensai in an attempt—a vain attempt—to reassure the older player. Fuji hesitated for a moment, before smiling back and placing a short kiss on Ryoma's forehead, a sign that he will let it go this once and trust the younger boy.

Kevin cast a small, wistful glance at Ryoma, but immediately returned to his food. Unbeknownst to him, a certain silver-haired freshman also cast a small unreadable glance towards him, before quickly returning to his food all the same.

* * *

"Aah, I'm so tired!" groaned Momoshiro, collapsing heavily on the glistening wet sand, letting the rushing seawater wash over his left side. Beside him, Kaidoh was huffing and puffing tiredly, settling on his knees on the warm sand. 

Fuji simply smiled and wiped a brow as his sweat started trickling down the side of his face. Ryoma was nowhere in sight, having been pulled away by a babbling Kevin. Feeling remorseful for Kevin, he let the two freshmen go without so much a word. He simply sent them off with a brilliant smile. He knew Kevin thought that maybe he didn't see it, but it was perfectly clear in his eyes that Kevin smiled back. Just one moment, the blonde smiled back in gratitude.

Fuji sighed. _Sometimes, I can't help but wish life is as simple as tennis, not for me, but for some other people. But then, if it's as simple as that, then where would be the fun and the challenge?_

"FUJI-SAAAAAAN!"

The tensai was knocked out of his thoughts by a riotous, lurid voice. Fuji fixed his perma-smile me: erm? a what? on his face, before turning towards a wide-awake Jirou—in other words, a _rare_ Jirou—who bounded towards him and stopped short before him.

"Ne, ne, ne, Fuji-san, can I ask you a favor?"

Fuji smiled. He loved Jirou's cheerful behavior. It certainly lightened up his day.

"Sure, what is it?"

Jirou's grin widened—if that was possible. "You see, you see, I have this new tennis bag I bought from the Yonex store in Ginza a few nights ago with Kei-chan, and you see, I was thinking if I could have you sign on it!! Will you? _Please_?"

Fuji chuckled at the protruding lower lip of Jirou's pout. "I don't see why not."

"YES!!!" cheered Jirou, making Oshitari simply smile and shake his head from a few steps away. The ball of energy was a just that whenever he was. "It's in the suite, though, can you come?"

Fuji nodded his answer and the bright, bouncing player led the way back up the steps towards the mansion. Jirou practically pranced up to the mansion, prattling and chattering to an occasionally nodding and humming Fuji. Truthfully speaking, Jirou was just a nice person and Fuji didn't want to disappoint the younger player by declining, but he was tired too. So, to help alleviate the ache in his muscles, he walked slowly behind the bouncing player waiting patiently for him.

The walk to the Bay Wing's chambers was short and uneventful. Fuji hesitated pretentiously when Jirou invited him into Atobe's master suite—of course, a show of courtesy. But in truth, he was _more_ than eager to get into the suite. Probably even figure out a way to get back in there later and bring some… ahh, _interesting_ items, courtesy of Renji and Inui. Of course, it will all be to improve Atobe-_sama_'s comfort and pleasure.

Inner Fuji cackled away madly as an evil glint dashed visibly on those steely blue eyes.

But of course, there was a reputation to uphold. On the outside, Fuji remained the smiling angel about to grant his ardent fan's wishes. Fuji traipsed into the room elegantly after Jirou, all tiredness forgotten. His blue eyes swept intently over the vast luxurious room, taking in the ostentatious grandiose that was Atobe. His eyes made a full circle as he turned around and finally landed on the last item: the bed.

If saying that it was huge wasn't an understatement, then Atobe wasn't a monkey.

And that's highly impossible.

Fuji was snapped out of his reverie when he heard muffled voices seemingly coming from a neighboring room extension of the master suite de grandè. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the voices.

Then came a _very_ familiar purr.

And then a chuckle. "You really shouldn't have gone to morning practice with your muscles this tense, Ryoma," a pompous, airy voice—Atobe's—came. "You're risking endless cramps, you know."

A muffled moan. "Urusai, Keigo."

Fuji's eyes narrowed. _Keigo? _

"That's why you should never have sex when there's practice the next morning," Atobe chuckled all-knowingly, only to be stumped right out by Ryoma's throw back.

"Come _on_, monkey king, you have sex with Jirou _all the time_. And damn you for putting hidden cameras in my room."

Coughing accompanied by a faint laughing—Ryoma—came through the walls, muffled but as clear as crystal to Fuji's sensitive ears.

Fuji saw red.

The tensai immediately emitted a lethal aura, his blue eyes freezing over as the room's temperature seemingly dropped several degrees.

More voices.

"Did you turn the AC on, Keigo? Stupid monkey, you know very well that I get colder than you more easily."

The temperature dropped a few more. _Keigo again._

"I know. You're warmer and you know I like you warmer, so no, I didn't," Keigo said. Fuji could see the elegant eyebrows raising in surprise and another moan could be heard.

"Keigo turn it off." A whine.

A sigh and shuffling. Fuji suspected Atobe to check to see if the air conditioner was indeed on.

Fuji was about to stalk over to the room extension, when a bell rang through the entire building, sounding from the beach outside. Jirou jumped out of the huge room they called the closet, flustered. The boy babbled and started pulling Fuji out of the room.

"I'm so sorry, Fuji-san, so sorry," Jirou babbled. "Yoru-san—you know, the maid—must have cleaned up again and I think she hid my new bag somewhere—really, these maids are meddlesome! I'm really sorry, Fuji-san, can we just do this another time? I'm sure Atobe will let you in again if I ask him, and if not, well, I can just bring the bag out and, Fuji-san, will you still sign it for me? Will you? Please! I'm sorry I used up your break time, and now we're being called again and—"

Fuji snapped out of his reverie, placing his perma-smile again on his face to show that he wasn't disturbed when in fact he very much was. "Yes, of course, Jirou-kun, I'll sign it for you anytime," he said calmly in that falsely calming, level voice he had long ago mastered.

Jirou grinned and started prancing down the hallway. Seeing that the bouncing ball of energy was convinced, Fuji started scheming and plotting inside, his eyes dashed with a hint of solid steel when they opened and focused once more on the huge oak door embellished with gold and silver.

_Of all people, I thought you knew enough not to steal what's _mine_, Atobe. You know I do **not** like to share with the likes of you._

"Fuji-san? What's the matter, did you forget something?" came a voice from the Cross Room ahead.

Fuji fixed a smile again. "No, no, Jirou-kun, I was just lost in my thoughts, that's all."

Fuji walked on, his eyes closed to prevent the other boy from noting that he was planning something. If there was anyone Atobe should blame, it would be his own self.

_You brought this upon yourself. Now you'll see how vindictive I can be.  
_

* * *

The afternoon practice, simply put, was _grueling_.

The summer didn't seem to want to part without a last chance to torment the people of Japan with its scorching heat. Underneath the sweltering hot sun, thirty-four players struggled with the practice regime their coach (read: tormentor) had arranged for them.

But all of them knew that these were the usual drills. These weren't the reason why their afternoon was grueling.

It was all because of a certain someone.

"Alright, next pair!" called out Nanjiroh as Kevin and Toushi finished their mock match, panting and sweating heavily as they half-dragged themselves out of the court. Asuka and Shin were both respectively dead tired, but Toushi and Kevin looked like they could still handle some more, so Nanjiroh grinned at them and pushed them towards the beach for a thirty-minute run. _Again_.

Twin groans were heard from the two as they headed out towards the beach, and remorseful eyes followed them, before returning to their previous activities.

"Syuu-kun!" called Nanjiroh. "Your turn!"

Everybody froze.

The tensai stood up from the bench, having finished his push-ups ten minutes ago, holding firmly in one hand his special golden racket. The said player had been adjusting the strings for a few minutes now, but he appeared not to really see the strings. Instead, he seemed to be squishing them and thinking of something else, most likely a person's head—a person they knew all too well.

There was a certain air of lethal vindication around the genius as he stood up, his eyes opening as the breeze passed by.

From somewhere down the beach, Kevin and Toushi unanimously breathed a sigh of relief for being away from Fuji at the moment. They were actually thankful that they were to run in a couple of minutes, because they certainly _didn't_ want to see Fuji bloody whomever the unlucky person is who would stand against him in the courts right now.

Fuji calmly walked towards his side of the court beside Nanjiroh, who was leaning against the net, thinking.

"Aiyt, neko-chaaaan! You're up!" hooted Nanjiroh, beckoning for a frozen Eiji. Then, the coach noticed everybody was frozen as well. "Oi! What are you lot doing, standing there like idiots? Get to work, get to work!"

Eiji shakily stood from the bench as his doubles partner patted him comfortingly on the back, walking towards the other side of the courts and steeling himself to face his dreadfully livid best friend.

_Unyaaa, why me?_

Eiji whined almost imperceptibly as Fuji stood against him, eyes open.

_Fuji-chan, please go easy on me. Please. I'm begging you, please don't scar me for life! My aibou needs me! I don't want to die yet, nya!_

The game started, and everybody went back to their exercises diligently, trying to avoid casting their eyes upon the match, where Fuji was starting to stalk his prey eagerly like a predator about to pounce. Eiji, miraculously, was holding up well under the pressure.

"Uh-oh," muttered Kevin as he and Toushi stood up. The two were just about to start their run again when Kevin caught a glance of the courts and saw the two figures, one taller and one shorter, approaching with rackets in hand.

"That Atobe _really_ has bad timing, doesn't he?" Toushi remarked plainly, posing it as more of a statement rather than a question.

But it was rhetorical anyways.

Kevin winced as Fuji's glare increased intensity. He turned to Toushi, who was looking at him as if waiting. "As much as I love Ryoma, I don't think I want to see Fuji slaughter Atobe."

"Glad we're on the same page," mumbled Toushi as they started running.

Atobe sauntered into the courts, approaching Nanjiroh to present his excuse. Ryoma stood behind him unobtrusively, trying to stay out of sight and out of the attention Atobe attracted to himself every time. This was one of the personal reasons why Ryoma disliked going around with Atobe. He wasn't a very attention-loving person, unless that attention comes from Fuji or Tezuka or Kevin.

"Yare, yare. You shouldn't skip practices for _trysts_, Kei-chan, no matter how tempting a morsel my seishounen is. There's the night for that," prodded Nanjiroh, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Then he looked over to Ryoma. "Ne, Ryo-ma-chan?"

Ryoma scowled darkly and pulled his cap down. "Che. Baka hentai."

Atobe, not seeing the sharp, scathing, intensity five-point-seven glare Fuji sent his way, went with Nanjiroh's flow. The Hyotei captain threw his free arm around Ryoma's shoulders, ignoring the boy's muffled 'oof'. He smirked. "Don't you think it's about _time_, Nan-ji-chan?"

Nanjiroh's lips stretched into a lecherous grin. "Aa. He _does_ take after his oyaji after all," he nodded, striking a pose. "We Echizens are simply _irresistible._ No one could resist my lure back then."

A yellow blur.

Nanjiroh's eyes snapped disconcertedly as a ball grazed his cheek lightly.

Fuji turned towards him, an all-too-innocent smile plastered on his face. "Arara… gomen, gomen, my grip slipped, sensei."

There was silence.

Nanjiroh chuckled nervously. "Right, right, err, practice…" the older man said, scratching his head. Then his countenance turned solemn as he faced Atobe. "Just don't accost Ryo-chan during practice, ne, Kei-chan?"

Atobe nodded, flipping his hair. "Of course, I'll remember that next time, Nan-ji-chan. We Atobe's never make mistakes twi—"

Another yellow blur.

"UNYAAAAAAAAAAA!" Eiji flailed. "SENSEI, ATOBE, GOMEEEEN! I didn't mean to, it was the ball, it went your way, the spin was all wrong—"

Another ball would have hit them (read: Atobe) squarely in the face if they (read: Atobe) hadn't moved out of the way the last moment.

In the background, Fuji stood on his side of the court, waiting for Eiji to finish flailing and rambling while wearing an all-too-angelic expression.

Kevin sighed, observing Fuji as the tensai wiped away sweat from a delicate brow, before downing the water bottle's contents in huge, greedy gulps. The blue-eyed player, he could feel, was teetering on the brink of losing his self-control. Kevin wanted to think otherwise, but he knew that just _one more _little prod and the player would snap.

"And when that happens, hell breaks loose," Toushi said, finishing Kevin's thoughts for the blonde.

Kevin looked up amazedly at the white-haired player who was currently emptying his water bottle over his own head. Toushi shook the water out of his hair, letting the droplets cascade down a naked, well-toned chest. Kevin straightened up, having finished tying his shoelaces back.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Kevin asked curiously, taking a swig from his bottle.

"I was thinking along the same lines," shrugged Toushi. "I didn't intend to finish your thoughts for you, I just voiced my own. Which are the same as yours."

Kevin smirked. "Great minds think alike?"

Toushi simply smirked back, before returning his gaze to Fuji, who was standing a few benches away. The other players were sprawled sweating and breathless all over the courts, making a bizarre makeshift living and breathing rug.

"I always had that impression about him," Kevin spoke slowly, gazing at Fuji as well. His new roommate and block-mate stared at him interestedly. "That he was a kind and gentle person outside. He had that natural caring persona inside too, but he's a very possessive person and is not one to be crossed."

"I find it hard to say, but I pity Atobe," snorted Toushi. "I wouldn't be surprised if there are roaches on his bed when he wakes up tomorrow."

Kevin laughed lightly as Toushi smiled.

"I wouldn't be either."

Just then, the tensai walked out of the courts, heading towards the manor, probably for a nice relaxing hot shower. Fuji sighed, his tension slowly seeping out, but unfortunately not taking the cooped up rage he was feeling with it. He crossed the gardens quickly and made his way back into the mansion. He scaled the stairs two steps at a time, reaching the Cross Room.

And again, for the second time that day, he heard Ryoma's muffled voices from his room, which was two doors down.

"Arigato, kaa-san, for taking Karupin to the vet," Ryoma's voice came.

"You're welcome, Ryoma," a kind, gentle voice came from the room. A feminine voice.

The boy's cellphone had the speakerphone option, so Fuji deduced that would be the reason why he could hear the conversation.

The feminine voice continued. "How's Keigo-kun? It's been a while since we've seen him."

A snort came from Ryoma. "Keigo's fine," the youth said. "He's still the rich, spoiled brat we all love."

Fuji searched for a derisive note of sarcasm, but found none. This fact disturbed him.

"Now, Ryoma, be nice," scolded Rinko. "I don't have to hear from a certain someone that you're the one being spoiled silly by Keigo."

"Damn Kevin," Ryoma mumbled, before protesting, "I am not!"

"Oh? Don't you have your usual suite next to him so that you can bother the poor boy at anytime? I know you always sleep next to his room, if not on his bed altogether. _A__nd_ don't you have two of his personal maids and your favorite chef catering to your every whim?"

Ryoma started sputtering, protesting weakly. "That—that's not the point!" he said indignantly. "He's the one who put me beside him, and it's not like I need Komatsu-san, or Okasaki-san, or Chef Andrew for stuff!" the boy finished, before adding under his breath, "…much."

"I heard you, Ryoma," Rinko declared triumphantly. "And I rest my case. You should really be nicer to Kei-kun, you know. He loves you."

Ryoma sniffed, apparently sulking. "It's not like I don't," Ryoma muttered, almost inaudible. "Really, there's no use arguing with you, mum."

"I'm not a lawyer for nothing, Ryoma-kun," Rinko stated proudly, before her voice started to turn motherly again. "Now, tell me about…"

The conversation went on, but Fuji already walked off toward the opposite direction, eyes blazing. He couldn't really listen any longer. He really didn't want to listen any longer. He really didn't need to listen any longer.

Because he knew that now, he had to do what he did best, or else it would be too late.

* * *

Kevin eyed the stairs that evening as everyone gathered in the common room to wait for dinner, as if expecting someone to come down. In truth, he was waiting for Toushi. The two immediately fell into pace after their second introduction earlier in the morning, when Nanjiroh told Kevin that Toushi would be rooming with him. The said blonde simply nodded, smilingly leading Toushi into the suite that was larger than the single suite and had two beds and one shared shower.

Asuka was currently seated beside Eiji, and the two were chatting animatedly, while Shin appeared amused while talking to Kirihara. Given Kirihara's spoken reputation, it was quite disconcerting to see Shin so easily conversing with the said raven-haired player so amicably when they had only recently met. Even Jackal and Marui were surprised to see Kirihara laughing easily with Shin.

Kevin once again trailed his eyes on the stairs.

"Kevin? Are you waiting for someone?" Ryoma queried curiously, adjusting his head against Tezuka's chest. The boy was currently snuggled against Tezuka's side, his head half on the captain's chest and half on the shoulder.

Kevin simply gave Ryoma a flat stare, before answering, "Iie, betsu ni."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "I know you better than you give me credit for, Kev."

But Kevin had no chance to reply, for Toushi came bounding down the stairs, heading straight for the vacant space beside Kevin on the loveseat. The boy immediately sank down on the cushion, eyes trailed on the blonde, who was expectantly looking back up at the white-haired youth.

"Well?"

"This is bad."

Kevin gulped. Hearing that statement made his throat dry.

"How bad?"

"Oh, well, just a few casualties here and there, and we'll certainly withstand it."

Kevin knew from instinct—he didn't know he knew Toushi well enough to have instincts on him, but he surprisingly did—that Toushi would only reassure him if the situation was _worse than the worst._

"_That_ bad?" Kevin said in an almost whisper, paying no heed to the fact that everyone was staring at the both of them already.

Toushi nodded gravely.

"Did you see him?"

"Went in his room earlier, locked the door," Toushi nodded affirmatively.

"Oi, you two, who are you talking about?" Momoshiro nosily prodded.

"Yeah, we don't like _secrets_ with friends, see," Eiji said, pointedly staring at Ryoma, who averted his gaze.

"It's nothing," Toushi and Kevin both waved off simultaneously. Similar thoughts ran through both pale heads. _What they don't know won't hurt them. Fuji-senpai has already snapped, but they don't need to know that, do they?_

Eiji frowned, before turning back to Oishi. "Demo ne, Oishi, Fuji-chan was really scary earlier! I just _know_ he manipulated the spin of that ball to make me miss and almost hit Atobe!"

Kevin and Toushi threw alarmed glances at each other, having not known about that small bit of information. They both gulped.

_No, they **definitely** don't need to know._

There was a storm coming, coming to wreak havoc in Fuji's wake. The tensai was going to take back what was his and make sure what's left behind is trashed properly.

"I don't think Fuji-senpai will be down for dinner tonight," muttered Kevin, leaning against the back of the loveseat.

Toushi heaved a great sigh, before leaning back as well. "Neither do I."

Their silent voices remained between the two of them and didn't escape under the bubble they had succumbed themselves into, drawing away from the noise of the crowd.

"Do we want to see this?" Kevin asked, mostly to himself.

"No, we don't."

"Do we have a choice?"

A derisive snort.

"No, we don't."

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

**ADVANCE WARNING(S): Lemon in the next chapter. The lemon is moved out of this chapter and into the next chapter! **

**Note:** **_These are not lemons without plots._ I am not a PWP **(Porn Without Plot)** writer and therefore will not put any in this story.**These lemons will be quite a factor to the plot following the events. I will not put in pointless lemons in this story, but I _will_ elaborate for the sake of the yaoi fans. I want to be as impartial as I can, so I will also keep in mind putting warnings for the more sensitive readers.

Kia-chan is sorry for the delays. Both Kia-chan and Tria-chan were away for the holidays, and we just got back. Tria-chan actually didn't find the time to write the lemon structure so we have to move it to the next chapter. Kia-chan, meanwhile, didn't find the time to write enough during her hectic vacation and only got up until the first scene, and thus explains the delay. Kia-chan and Tria-chan are both sorry.

Thank you for understanding. Please review!

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_01.08.06 _


	15. Step Fifteen: Dares and Doubts

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Kia-chan has a huge hangover today. Don't ask why. But never mind. Kia-chan will still be writing this for you.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s):** Angst. **Lemon in this chapter**, though a bit shorter than the last one. And more serious angst. The angst-ing will be starting in this chapter. Be prepared for a rocky ride. Some language too. **Lime**—if you'll classify it as such.

**Note:** Quite a lot of people are okay with the OC Toushi, so I'll keep him in. If you guys can't visualize him, think Bleach—Hitsugaya Toushirou. Kinda. He's the basis of this Toushi character, see.

**NOTIFICATION:****Updates will be weekly, every Tuesday evening **from now on. I need to fit my writing schedule into my academic schedule as well. Please bear with me.

* * *

**Step Fifteen: Dares and Doubts**

* * *

"Genichirou?" called a gentle, searching voice. The figure turned the corner and entered the small snack bar in the common room. "Genichirou?" 

A messy mop of black moved as Kirihara looked up from the counter. There was an adorably innocent expression on the youngest Rikkaidai player, making Yukimura smile in fond affection.

"Aka-chan, did you see Genichirou?" asked Yukimura, addressing his 'baby boy.'

A thoughtful pout crept up Kirihara's face. "Well… the last time I saw him was when he was outside in the courts. He said he was waiting for Seigaku to arrive. I think he wanted to talk to Tezuka-san about some of the teams we will be going against in the competitions."

"Oh, yes, he mentioned that to me too," Yukimura nodded in comprehension. "But Seigaku arrived an hour ago."

"Just an hour ago?" Kirihara questioned curiously. "It's… 6:30 in the evening, almost dinnertime. Is that why training was canceled today?"

Yukimura nodded, moving forward and pulling Kirihara into a light hug. The younger player leaned immediately into the touch, savoring the attention that was saved for himcomma and only for him. "I think the board decided to observe the newly reformed club's stability this afternoon, so the Regulars stayed the whole day."

"Ah, sou," nodded Kirihara, closing his eyes and completely forgetting about the sandwich he was putting together for a snack.

"Mm? What's this? Aka-chan, you'll get fat if you keep on eating egg sandwiches," scolded Yukimura lightly, sounding very motherly as he tried to pry the egg sandwich away from Kirihara's grasp. The younger player pouted.

"B-But Seii-chan! You know egg sandwiches are my favorite!" Kirihara stuttered, wide-eyed and horrified.

"Yes, I know that," Yukimura chided gently, placing the egg sandwich on a small plate, away from Kirihara completely. "But you'll get fat."

"B-B-But…"

"Akaya," came a harder, more masculine voice from the doorframe. Sanada was leaning against the frame, watching the proceedings. Yukimura turned and sent him a light smile.

"I was looking for you."

"Gomen ne, Seiichi. I was out for a bit. I needed to talk to Tezuka."

"So I've heard," nodded Yukimura. "Tell me more about it later, ne? But first, help me deal with our beloved Aka-chan."

Kirihara pouted, knowing he was completely cornered and without escape.

"Akaya, I thought you were wary of using your nickname for Seiichi out of privacy," Sanada noted. "And haven't I told you to keep away from those egg sandwiches? Last time you ate too much, you ended up at the emergency room because of constipation."

Kirihara frowned, but didn't reply. He knew that Sanada had a strong point, and he knew that the best course of action was to simply surrender for now. After all, there were other chances to sneak a sandwich in between practice. And maybe even a midnight snack.

Yukimura chuckled at Kirihara's lack of response, before moving over and placing the egg sandwich into the refrigerator. He stepped back and took Kirihara's hand. "Come now, Aka-chan. How about some rest before dinner? I know you're tired from practice. I'll give you a massage. How does that sound?"

Kirihara's eyes brightened at the prospect of a massage. Unbeknownst to many others, Yukimura was an expert masseur. Though only a few were and will be given the opportunity to experience his hands, all of those who did unanimously agreed that Yukimura could pass an expert. The captain most probably learned from watching his mother, who was a licensed physical therapist herself.

Sanada was about to remark on Yukimura spoiling Kirihara again, if not for another voice interrupting the trio.

"Nanda," came a drawl. White hair poked out from the loveseat behind Sanada. Blonde hair followed soon after. Toushi smirked, cupping his chin in his palm. "I thought you three were a tad bit better off than the Seigaku trio, but it seems you're also spoiling your baby like crazy."

Kevin nudged the other teen. "That's rude, Toushi," he chided, before turning to Sanada. "Gomen ne, we were just thinking of getting some snacks when we passed by and found you here. We didn't mean to interrupt."

"_You_ didn't," snorted Toushi. "_I_ did."

"Shut up," snapped Kevin, though there was no trace of animosity or malice in his voice. There was only friendly fondness. The blonde turned back towards Sanada. "I apologize for my stupid companion's noisiness. We'll be going now."

Kevin shot them a small grin, before jumping off the loveseat and tugging a protesting Toushi behind him. Toushi paused for a moment and grabbed two bottles of some brown drink from the counter without looking at the label, before sprinting after the blonde. As the two figures disappeared down through the common room door, Yukimura chuckled.

"They're quite the pair, aren't they?"

Kirihara snorted. "Glad to see blondie's not moping any longer."

"Not moping?" Sanada repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That boy's still moping and I can see it no matter how hard he tries to hide it."

"There's hope, though," Yukimura voiced, before sighing and tugging Kirihara along with him. "Come now. We're not supposed to meddle in business that isn't ours. And besides, it's only fifteen more days before we leave the mansion. You won't have to complain about lovebirds kissing and groping all over the place, or moping blondes parading around in the house, or three mad scientists collaborating to cook up the most disgusting things you've ever seen, Gen."

Sanada rolled his eyes. "Let's just hope we'll survive the last fifteen. Owing from experience, I know there's worse coming."

"Oooh, so Gen-chan's omniscient now?" Kirihara crowed.

Sanada glared.

* * *

Momoshiro thoughtfully frowned. His eyes flitted across the table and down a few seats, resting finally on the disturbed face of his one and only archrival and doubles partner, Kaidoh Kaoru. The trajectory specialist seemed uncharacteristically down and has been for the past few days. Of course, the guy was doing a very good job at hiding it, but to Momoshiro's trained eyes, the mask he wore was useless. 

Most people would mistake that dark look on Kaidoh's face as either murdering intent or simple uncurbed or untamed natural animosity, but he knew better. He knew that the dark look was a sign of Kaidoh's disturbed peace of mind. There was something bugging his archrival and that something bugged him big time. After all, he and Kaidoh were archrivals ever since they started during middle school, and as such, he knew Kaidoh's perks as well as he knew the back of his hand.

He followed his archrival's gaze across the table, landing on—as he expected—a certain Inui Sadaharu busily chatting and comparing notes with fellow data collector (read: mad scientist) Yanagi Renji. The two were unaware that a currently smoldering Kaidoh Kaoru was eyeing each and every single one of their moves.

Momoshiro sighed, returning to his food albeit a tad bit more sullenly.

_It's been like this for three days in a row now. What the hell's happening anyways? Inui-senpai, I thought you promised. You swore to me. And Kaidoh, I thought you were happy. You said you were happy, you liar._

It was almost a year ago when Inui and Kaidoh finally tied their relationship together, and the young and rocky relationship was bearing the brunt of the pressure of a newly formed bond. Up until now, that is.

Unbeknownst to most people, Momoshiro actually cared a lot for his archrival. Let it be said that they're the worst rivals on earth and that they're the noisiest pair of dumb asses especially during their special 'catfight sessions'. Let it be said and done. But in the end, everything will still boil down to the fact that there's a deep friendship between the two of them, forged between tension and healthy rivalry; and that deep friendship went both ways.

Momoshiro, keeping Kaidoh in the dark, coaxed a promise from Inui a year ago when the two had gotten together. Momoshiro only wanted the best for his friend and rival. In honesty, he would have liked their friendship to go deeper—and he would _die_ before he told anyone else this fact, but he doubted Fuji didn't know, since Fuji's an omniscient, but Fuji doesn't matter anyways—but he knew it was impossible. The tension between them was too high, and balancing a relationship on it would probably strain and eventually break the bond. And besides, he knew long ago that Kaidoh wanted Inui.

And so, he made Inui promise. He made his elder promise that he wouldn't hurt Kaidoh no matter what—of course, without the knowledge of a certain snake.

_But… really, Inui-senpai, I thought you were _much_ more than this._

"—mo!" a pixie-like screech disturbed him from his reverie. "Hunyaaaa, Momo, what's wrong? Are you sick, nya? You're spacing out, nya!"

Ryoma curiously glanced over at his former best friend. Momoshiro and him, they used to be best friends before Ryoma went to the States, but Kevin replaced him and proved to be a… more fitting best friend and surrogate brother than Momoshiro was and could ever be. After all, there was always this unspoken tension between the two of them, and Ryoma guessed it was because Momoshiro actually was suppressing a desire to befriend someone else. And now, he could see that his speculations were right on the dot.

"Ahaha, gomen, gomen, Eiji-senpai!" Momoshiro sheepishly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Just a bit sleepy, that's all. I couldn't sleep at all last night since a certain _someone_—" Momoshiro pointedly remarked, throwing a glare at Kamio beside him, "—had _snored_ so damned loudly."

The excuse was almost entirely true. Well, actually, it _was_ true, but it just wasn't complete. Momoshiro sighed as Eiji's ever-moving attention was pushed towards another direction, this time towards an unfortunate blushing Ryoma, who was being pampered _again_ by Fuji and Tezuka. Actually, as he looked closer at the two, Momoshiro could see that Fuji was more… shall we say, touchy feely today. And Ryoma wasn't anywhere near complaining. In fact, Ryoma seemed to be _basking_ and _enjoying _it.

Momoshiro frowned. How uncharacteristic.

_Oh well_, he decided, shrugging inwardly, before returning with renewed vigor towards his food. _Not my business. Better keep away from Fuji-senpai. I don't want him breathing down my neck._

As he ate, he observed Kaidoh returning to the food and pointedly _trying _to ignore Inui and Yanagi. He sighed. If there was anything he could do, anything at all…

"Ne, don't you think it's about time you make a move?" came a silent voice from beside him. Slightly alarmed, he glanced down at the mop of spiky yet soft-looking white hair on his left side. Toushi placed his glass of water down and remained focused on his food, as if they were not really conversing. "It's your chance. Take it while you can. Opportunities are rare, especially those like these."

"Huh?"

"Toushi's right," muttered Kevin. "You have a chance, a good chance. Don't waste it. It won't be your fault if they break up anyways, it'll be Inui-san's fault."

"W-What are you two talking about?" Momoshiro stuttered, trying to cover himself up. _This is bad… I was never good at this covering-myself-up stuff._

Toushi snorted into his mashed potatoes. "You know as well as we do what we're talking about. Think about it, Momo-senpai. Just don't take too long."

The two pale-headed players turned back to their food as if nothing happened, Kevin immediately immersing himself into another conversation with Eiji, who was being scolded—and the redhead was ignoring it—by Oishi for playing with his food.

Momoshiro was stumped.

_Man, am I that bad already? Being advised by kouhai and all… I really need to work on myself…_

Beside him, Toushi chuckled dryly into his food, casting a sideways glance towards a Kevin withdrawing from his short episode with Eiji. "You're one to say something, ne, Kevin," Toushi muttered under his breath, pretty sure that Kevin could hear him underneath the noise, "Telling someone else that they shouldn't 'waste their chances' when _you _are. Shouldn't people be living what they preach?"

"I only said that because Momo-senpai had a _good chance, _Toushi. You and I both know as well as anybody in their sane mind that _I_ don't hold a chance," Kevin sighed. He chose to remain impervious to the stare Toushi gave him, which was complete with a raised eyebrow. The hairs on the back of his neck, though, started prickling as he felt another more piercing gaze on him. He refused to look up and fought against instinct, returning absently to his food without any appetite. After a few moments, the prickling sensation mercifully ceased.

Beside him, Fuji turned his gaze on Ryoma's curious voice. He smiled at the boy. "Is there anything you need, Ryoma-chan?" he cooed, for the moment pushing away his thoughts about what the blonde sitting on his right just said.

_Ryoma groaned and stretched his sore, overworked arms and legs, fighting to ignore the setting sun beating down against his back, as if savoring its last chance to do so. His skin glistened with sweat, and his shirt was soaked through and through. It was no new thing, though; it was known within the entire Seigaku Koto Gakkou Tennis Club that Echizen Ryoma was a training addict. _

_Having finished his daily training regimen (and then some), the young prodigy made his way through the empty courts, picking the yellow balls he used along the way. The courts were littered with his balls, and there was no one else to clean them up. _

_The non-regulars were released the usual release time, while Tezuka, Oishi, Inui and Nanjiroh were up in the _ _Faculty__Building__'s conference room with Ryuuzaki-sensei and her team captain and vice-captain, discussing the club funds and the arrangements for the upcoming Regionals with the school council. _

_The team was in overdrive, since the Regionals was in less than week away, and the non-regulars were already whining that they were going to die with the training they were going under with the regulars. _

_At the thought of his teammates, Ryoma glanced around, noticing for the first time that no one really did stay behind. Normally, most of the other regulars would have invited him home or coaxed him from his training already, with the exception of Fuji and Tezuka, whom, unless under extreme circumstances, remained with him at all times without complaints and/or comments. _

_If he wasn't mistaken, Eiji, Momoshiro, Kaidoh, and Kawamura were at the sushi shop for a light dinner, and _ _Fuji__ was nowhere to be found. _

_Well, that's odd. _

_Ryoma shrugged, picking the last ball up and putting it in the basket. _

_Maybe he's with buchou in the meeting. _

_As the golden-eyed boy finished picking up the last of the balls, he walked lazily towards the clubroom, depositing the basket of balls neatly to the ball corner along with the rest. He played with his racket as he walked nonchalantly to the shower and locker rooms. A nice, hot shower sounded blissful. _

_ The golden-eyed boy entered the shower rooms, wrenching his locker open and depositing his racket beside his bag. He reached for his towel and moved towards the first and largest shower stall—his personal favorite—when he was startled by two cool palms wrapping themselves around his bared abs as he started removing his shirt. _

_"Ryo—ma—chan!" a cooing, teasing voice came. _

_Ryoma knew that voice and that touch all too well. _

_"Syu-Syuusuke!" yelped Ryoma. "Get off!" _

_Fuji simply chuckled from behind the boy and wrapped one long lean arm around Ryoma's lower half, draping it securely across the boy's bare abdomen and still-clothed hips, while the other arm wound itself around Ryoma's chest and shoulders. _ _Fuji__ snuggled closer. _

_"Syuusuke!" protested Ryoma, squirming under the tightly secured grasp in vain, though it was quite evident that the boy didn't really want the tensai to let go. "Let me go, I wanna shower!" _

_"Demo, Ryo—ma—chan…" _

_Fuji smirked, blue eyes open in slits, as he ran his hands slowly up under Ryoma's half-removed shirt, ghosting his cool fingers over the heated, sensitive skin. He followed up with fleeting butterfly kisses brushing up and ascending the side of Ryoma's neck. Fuji blew hot breath on Ryoma's ear, satisfied when he heard the younger boy's breath hitch. _

_"…I like you this way better," _ _Fuji__ muttered against Ryoma's ear, his lips brushing against the lobe ever so slightly. _

_Fuji__ firmly grasped Ryoma's chin and maneuvered the boy's face so quickly that the younger player didn't even notice it until _ _Fuji__ had his lips firmly planted against his own. The kiss slid into a slow, sensual tango, with Ryoma moaning headily into it. _

_He gasped when _ _Fuji__ roughly pushed him against the closed lockers, making a muffled thump from the impact of flesh against cold, hard metal. That one small gasp for air was all the opening _ _Fuji__ needed, and without further ado, the tensai plunged his tongue into Ryoma's mouth, plundering and owning whatever he came across. The kiss was almost brutal, yet Ryoma couldn't help but moan continuously into it, hoping that _ _Fuji__ would get the show moving. _

_But alas, there are limits as to how much the younger one can bear. _

_The almost imperceptible whimper that came from Ryoma's mouth was muffled by _ _Fuji__'s own mouth, but it effectively slowed the tensai's pace. The kisses morphed from brutal, searing ones into apologetic, gentle ones. Fuji gently and carefully coaxed Ryoma's reluctant tongue into the slow tango, guiding and leading. _

_Ryoma clung to Fuji, needy, through the heady battle of tongues—teasing, twirling, twining against each other inside the joint cavern of their fused mouths. Ryoma completely lost himself into another world, forgetting everything else and leaving himself completely at the mercy of the sensations coursing through his body. _

_He whimpers as _ _Fuji__ draws away, protesting at the sudden loss of contact. Nevertheless, he tilted his head back, digging it against the lockers and exposing the long column of flesh that was his neck. The message was clear. _ _Fuji__ leaned forward and let his breath cascade down against the column of skin, and delighted at the mixed moan and whimper that the action elicited from his counterpart. _

_Fuji placed a small kiss on the groove between Ryoma's neck and shoulder, adjusting himself against the boy as they pressed against the metal lockers. There was a strangled gasp when Ryoma felt _ _Fuji__'s bulge press against his stomach. Eyes wide, Ryoma turned to _ _Fuji_

_"Syuusuke?" _

_Fuji__ looked up with smoldering lust-filled eyes. "You don't know what you do to me, Ryoma." _

_Before the younger player knew it, he was drowning once again into the blissful warm darkness as his eyelids slid shut, separating him from the conscious world. Fuji pulled him deeper and deeper into blind bliss, tongues intertwined, lips sliding smoothly against each other, the small pillows of flesh generating warming heat that enveloped the both of them. _

_Soon enough, Ryoma was reduced into a wanton puddle of desire. The golden-eyed boy started lifting and bucking his hips against _ _Fuji__'s for pleasant, desired friction, making the elder groan in pleasure. Ryoma's breath caught at his throat when his erection brushed and rubbed against _ _Fuji__'s. _

_The younger prodigy headily drank in _ _Fuji__'s presence, somehow knowing that this "session" of theirs would be unbearable short. As such, he just had to savor it while he could. _

_Fuji, careful never to break away from the young one's lips, slid his hands down Ryoma's sides in an achingly slow yet firm motion, before deftly sliding his fingers underneath the band of Ryoma's modest-looking black tennis shorts. Ryoma gasped as Fuji swiftly pulled the shorts lower, while pulling the painfully aroused member out. _

_"S-Syusu—ah!" _

_The air in Ryoma's lungs left him in a single rush of breath as the hot, wet sensation of _ _Fuji__'s mouth enveloped his cock. Ryoma didn't even notice that _ _Fuji__ already dropped to his knees before him. He groaned, his head lolling backwards limply and his eyes rolling in his head in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Soon enough, he was lost in the heat and moist darkness that was _ _Fuji__'s mouth, and he couldn't stop the moan that escaped his slightly parted lips. _

_Fuji slid backwards, releasing half of Ryoma's cock and replacing his mouth with his hands, his lips latching themselves around the head. He chuckled faintly at Ryoma's wanton appearance, the pleasant humming vibration making Ryoma buck his hips and call out _ _Fuji__'s name. _

_Hearing the keening call, _ _Fuji__ assumed correctly that Ryoma was in heaven with what he was experiencing right now. The tensai conceded and continued humming, the vibrations tickling Ryoma's flush skin senseless. Soon enough, the boy collapsed into his first climax of the night—rest assured, Fuji wouldn't end it there—and the tensai lapped up all recesses, lazily dragging his tongue from Ryoma's navel up along the boy's exposed torso. Fuji broke off when he felt the hyoid bone at the center of Ryoma's chest, licking and sucking at that point, knowing from his anatomy class that it was quite a sensitive and tender place, and if stimulated correctly, it brought tumbling pleasure. _

_Ryoma groaned, still convulsing in _ _Fuji__'s arms from the rapturous orgasm he just went through. He eagerly parted his lips and tasted himself as _ _Fuji__ straightened up and kissed him yet again with the fire that didn't diminish even after the first climax. _

_Fuji drew back, licking his cherry lips deviously and opening his brilliant blue eyes. "We're far from finished, Ryoma-chan," purred _ _Fuji__, sidling flush against Ryoma's body and molding the two of them together. Ryoma's breath hitched. It was amazing how fast _ _Fuji__ could get him aroused even after a tiring climax. "We're just starting." _

_Fuji started undoing his pants, his lips never leaving Ryoma's skin. He made sure that he marked and touched every single inch of skin he could reach as he smoothly drew down his zipper. He was about to pull his cock out when the door of the locker rooms jiggled and opened. _

_Both Ryoma and _ _Fuji__ snapped out of their sensuous, heat-encouraged trance. _

_Ryoma froze, unsure of what to do in this kind of situation. He mentally slapped himself. This was the first time someone walked in on him while he was in the middle of something sexual, but it wasn't the first time that someone had that opportunity. Last time, with Tezuka, they had only noticed that the door was partly open when they woke up in the morning, and that they'd left it that way through their sex and afterwards. _

_And now this. _

_But he was lucky. Fuji, the ever-sharp tensai, quickly hauled Ryoma away from the lockers and dodged into the shower stall behind them, locking the door and turning on the hot water on full blast. _

_Behind the lockers the two were leaning against earlier, Oishi stood by the door. "Ara, someone's still here, Tezuka." _

_"Sou ka," came another masculine voice from outside, a little fainter, but recognizably the captain's. "Then tell them that it's up to them to close the shower rooms." _

_"Aa, we need to pick up the new First Aid kits the council bought us from the clinic, as well as the new batch of tennis balls," Inui pointed out from somewhere outside. _

_There was a bit of silence, where _ _Fuji__ assumed that Oishi nodded. _

_"Oishi, is that you?" called out Fuji in a slightly muffled voice as he pressed himself against Ryoma, who tried to stifle his gasp. _

_"_ _Fuji__? You're still here?" _

_"I just finished my last stretch. Don't worry, I'll be sure to lock the rooms. You can go ahead," _ _Fuji__ said, smirking against Ryoma's skin. The younger player mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'liars go to hell', before shutting himself up again. _

_"Okay then, we'll be going now," Oishi called back. "See you at dinner tonight." _

_"Aa, see you!" _

_Fuji__ waited for the clicking sound of the door being closed, letting the voices and footfalls fade before he started moving again. He wanted to make sure no one interrupted. _

_"You do realize you just ruined my tennis clothes. I'm all wet now," Ryoma blandly stated. _

_Fuji__ smiled down at him. "Well, you were planning on a shower after all, weren't you, Ryo-ma-chan?" _

_Ryoma rolled his eyes and was about to retort and push back some kind of witty, sarcastic reply when Fuji harshly pulled off his shirt and shorts, at the same time shedding his own clothes. Ryoma's protest was drowned out by his own moan when Fuji pressed their naked bodies together, dragging a nimble hand down Ryoma's side to the outside of his thighs, finally resting it under Ryoma's knee and lifting the boy's leg to wrap around his own waist. _

_Ryoma complied happily, eager for more physical, skin-to-skin contact, and wrapped his legs around _ _Fuji__'s waist, clinging completely to the elder and relying on the tiled wall behind him and _ _Fuji__ to keep him upright. He reached up and wound his arms around _ _Fuji__'s neck, burying one hand into the flaxen-brown hair while the other busied itself sliding up and down _ _Fuji__'s back and nape. Ryoma took the incentive and made the first move, bringing their lips together in an earth-shattering kiss and moaning into it. _

_Fuji__ smiled into the kiss. This was even way better than he had previously imagined. And a willing Ryoma was definitely a sexy sight to behold, moaning and writhing in unearthly agony and desire (though he wouldn't put it past himself to get aroused by an unwilling Ryoma either). _

_The brown-haired teen ground his hips fiercely against the younger teen, identical groans from either of them blending and fading into the growing darkness. The sun was setting, and the shower rooms were growing darker by the second. Neither of them cared. There were only lips against flesh, skin against skin, breath running out of parted lips, pants fading into the night, warm water cascading down upon them. _

_Fuji planted a rather bruising kiss on Ryoma's already cherry flushed lips, before dragging his thumb over Ryoma's lips, forcing the younger one's mouth open wider, and holding out two fingers. _

_But Ryoma, instead of latching onto the fingers, swerved his head away. _

_"Ryom—" _

_"I don't need preparation," panted Ryoma, leaning back to let the water cascade down his flank. "I need you. Now." _

_Had it been Tezuka, Ryoma's plea would have been left unheard. Being the gentleman he is, Tezuka would have insisted on preparation. But _ _Fuji__ was different. _

_"As you wish, Ryoma," _ _Fuji__ huskily whispered into his ear, biting down on the lobe as _ _Fuji__ pressed his cock against Ryoma's exposed and puckered opening. In one smooth, swift thrust, _ _Fuji__ was sealed inside Ryoma, encased in the tight, hot, wet orifice. _

_Fuji__ groaned, marveling at the tightness. He could feel Ryoma stiffen under him, before relaxing again. The boy was apparently hurt. _

_"Do you want me to stop?" _

_"Don't you dare," Ryoma muttered in a dark whisper, biting down aggressively on _ _Fuji__'s shoulder and ignoring the elder's amused chuckle. Ryoma wiggled his hips, earning another louder groan from the tensai. "Move." _

_Fuji__ didn't need telling twice. The tensai slowly slipped half-out of the younger one, before sliding in tantalizingly slowly in a shallow thrust. He continued the painful, heady torture, establishing a rhythm, a pattern Ryoma started riding to. Unfortunately for the younger prodigy, _ _Fuji__ had a plan, and so the tensai held the other's hips down firmly to prevent him from bucking up. _

_"Syuusuke!" whined Ryoma, trying to wiggle his hips. "Let m—**shit**!" _

_The black-haired teen cursed out loud in English when _ _Fuji__ suddenly gave a savage, deep thrust, deeper than his previous superficial ones. _ _Fuji__ grinned. Apparently, he'd found the right spot. He returned to his previous pattern, slowly driving Ryoma with deep, penetrating thrusts in between numbers of shallow ones. _

_"**God, Syuusuke, please…**" _

_Fuji__ smiled, feeling the boy weave fingers into his hair as they rode against the tiled wall. The younger one choked a sob as _ _Fuji__ slowed his pace when he felt that Ryoma was nearing the edge. He shifted and released Ryoma, pulling out with a grunt, accompanied by a whine from the younger one. He let the golden-eyed boy down with a gentle kiss, before maneuvering him around, and, without warning, thrusting in once again. _

_Ryoma cried out in ecstasy as Fuji completely threw all caution into the air and started delivering deep, desperate thrusts that sent surging heat through Ryoma's nerves. Soon enough, both of them were sliding up and down against each other in an effort to provide more friction, _ _Fuji__'s right hand occupied with Ryoma's erection. _

_Fuji thrust in faster and faster, harder and harder, attempting to bring Ryoma into orgasm first, gritting his teeth at the strain on his thigh muscles. Soon enough, Ryoma threw his head back, hitting _ _Fuji__'s shoulder lightly, and yelled out as he came almost painfully, the spurts of seed immediately washed away by the torrent of warm water washing down on them. _ _Fuji__ came not two seconds later, groaning into Ryoma's shoulder and biting down hard, leaving a very visible mark on the younger one's skin. _

_There was a few seconds' silence, disrupted only by the noise of the gushing water hitting the tiles and the opaque glass stall door and the slowing pants from the both of them. _

_Then _ _Fuji__ chuckled, placing a soft kiss on Ryoma's jaw from behind, before pulling out of the boy smoothly. Nevertheless, he didn't let go of Ryoma. He simply settled against the tiled wall behind him, pulling Ryoma with the younger one's back against his own chest. _

_"Ryoma-chan's so delectable," giggled _ _Fuji__, settling his chin on the black-haired teen's shoulder. _

_Ryoma pouted. "This can count as assault, you know." _

_"Oh?" _ _Fuji__ echoed, raising both eyebrows. "But from what I recall, the 'victim' was perfectly willing." _

_Ryoma blushed to the tip of his ears, mumbling something incomprehensible as _ _Fuji__ laughed. _

_"Come, let's clean up," chuckled _ _Fuji__, placing another kiss on Ryoma's shoulder. "You wanted a shower, deshou? Ja, I'll give you one." _

_Ryoma groaned, rolling his eyes. "You'll be the death of me, Syuusuke." _

_Fuji__ only chuckled. _

"Betsu ni, you were just spacing out," Ryoma said, before he looked up at him and smiled slightly. The boy was contently munching on his steak, apparently in a very good mood this night. Fuji knew perfectly well why.

As the tensai finished reminiscing the earlier afternoon's events, he felt himself go half-hard, but chose to ignore it wisely. They were at the dinner table after all.

His attention shifted towards Atobe as the mansion's young master started his announcement.

"Minna-san, your attention please," he quipped, lightly tapping the side of his wineglass to get their attention. When the chatter died down and all eyes were trained on him—except Nanjiroh's eyes, since the coach was eyeing one of the younger maids—he started speaking. "Ore-sama and Nanjiroh-sensei, along with the other captains, held a short meeting earlier. We agreed that since this is our fifteenth day in the mansion and that this closes the first half of the training camp—"

"—which is the easier part, by the way," Nanjiroh inserted, only to receive horrified groans.

"—we will have tomorrow off from school, and tonight spent as a fun night," Atobe finished as if Nanjiroh never interrupted, ignoring the groans all around him from the elder man's statement.

Replacing the groans, however, were cheers after he finished his announcement.

"Ore-sama's majordomo will be organizing this little fun night of ours," Atobe continued. "The night will start an hour after dinner, and everyone will be gathering in the common room."

"What's so special about the night?" Shinichi asked, apparently bored.

"Weeeeell," drew out Nanjiroh, doodling on his now empty plate with his fork. "Alcohol—though only mild—is allowed, loud music is allowed, staying up late is allowed, as well as all kinds of games you can think of—mind you, don't hold back on my account, I won't be forbidding you from strip dancing if you want—and so, you can treat this like a disco party of a kind… and that's to sum up some of it."

There was silence around the table as eyebrows raised and faces morphed slowly into glee.

"Of course, you can always spend the night up in your room and get some rest. But hey, this is a rare chance to get some fun like high school boys should be getting, and without consequences, since there's no school tomorrow and all," Nanjiroh shrugged. "Or…" he started, wiggling his eyebrows as he leaned over his plate eagerly. "…you can spend your night inside your room with your boyfriend—or boyfriend_s_—and relieve yourselves from the pain of being hot and bothered."

Faces around the table took on different shades of red. Atobe chuckled to himself, cupping his chin in his palm. He never thought there were so many different shades of red.

"That's not such a bad idea, Nan-ji-chan," grinned Atobe, not in the very least bothered by the insinuation. He was one of the few, and the few included Fuji (but that was expected), a sleepy Jiroh (but no one thought he heard or understood a thing anyways), a motionless Kabaji (but no one was even sure if he can blush), and a smiling Yukimura.

Even Tezuka and Sanada became a tad bit pinkish as well.

Ryoma, on the other hand, was red not from embarrassment, but from irritation. "Uru_sai_, baka hen_tai_!" he growled, extremely tempted to pick up his fork and fling it at his grinning father.

"Saa, Nanjiroh-sensei said we're free to do anything, so why not?" Fuji said after a moment of silence. His smile widened a fraction of an inch. "It's a… shall we say, good opportunity."

"What's that supposed to mean?" muttered an apprehensive Shinichi from the opposite side of the table and a few seats down.

But the remark was drowned out when Eiji suddenly erupted into cheers.

"WAIIIII!!" the redhead cheered, grasping for his doubles partner. "OISHI, DID YOU HEAR?!?!? WE CAN DO ANYTHING WE WANT, NYAA!!!"

But of _course_, Gakuto just _has_ to be louder.

"NE, NE, NE, YUUSHI, WE CAN HAVE IT LIKE ATOBE'S PARTY ALL OVER AGAIN!!!" screeched Gakuto, clutching a once again blue-faced Oshitari.

Ryoma sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

_Here we go._

* * *

Three hours, fourteen empty liquor bottles, thirty-six empty Budweiser cans and a ton of noisy stupidity later, two dozen or so slightly tipsy tennis players quieted down inside the common room. ("Light alcohol, my arse," Ryoma muttered upstairs as the chaos subsided.)

Silence.

"Why is it so quiet?" murmured Momoshiro.

No one answered him.

"Ne, there's still one game we haven't tried," Eiji grinned, suddenly regaining focus.

Shishido half-snorted. "I've never played so many games in my entire life as I did tonight, and you tell me there's still one more?"

"Our last game for the night, then," Fuji chuckled, not in the very least drunk. Fuji seemed as if it was any normal night and he was simply staying up for some late-night reading. In fact, if one didn't know that he was by far the one who consumed the most alcohol, one wouldn't even consider the notion of him being drunk. "Saa, Eiji, what's this game you're talking about?"

Eiji giggled, bouncing.

For the redhead, the night had been extremely entertaining. He discovered that of all of them, Atobe, Tezuka, Fuji, Yukimura, and Sanada me: Tachibana mo. don't forget Buddha-san were the ones who could handle the alcohol perfectly well as if it was nothing. Not that it was any at all surprising, but it was a good discovery to say the least, owing to the fact that he figured it out after the said players faced off against each other in a drinking contest.

Of course, the tensai had won, though it was a close call with Yukimura.

And he also discovered that when drunk, Kaidoh was a _very_ talkative person. Ohhh, he'll have _so _much fun teasing Kaidoh about his dark little secrets later on…

"TRUTH OR DARE, NYA!" he all but screeched.

There was a bit of silence after his statement as the half-drunk players digested the message slowly, before grins and groans spread through the room.

"I'm in, I'm in!" Asuka bounced.

Gakuto pushed forward, not letting himself be outdone by his rival redhead. Oshitari sighed as Gakuto pulled him into the game, conceding and knowing that there was nothing he could do to deny, seeing that his doubles partner was as determined as hell. Oishi struggled to calm Eiji as the players slowly started forming a circle.

Shinichi was pulled into the circle by Asuka, but the black-haired teen seemed unperturbed. In fact, he seemed _bored_. (When was he ever not?) The teen could evidently hold his own, seeing that he was still drinking. Eiji would most probably place him in the top ten people who can drink.

Kamio, Shinji, Momoshiro and Marui started forming their own part of the circle as well, followed by Niou, Choutarou, Shishido, Inui, and Renji. Kaidoh was currently knocked out flat (and sporting a huge bump on his head because of Kawamura's fiery drunk stupor when he was handed a racket earlier by some anonymously stupid guy) along with a couple of others.

"Joining?" asked Atobe.

Tachibana shook his head, settled on his seat beside Nanjiroh. "I'll be watching."

Atobe nodded and turned to Fuji.

"Most certainly," Fuji nodded. "Tezuka?"

Tezuka nodded, and the three of them moved into the circle. Not to be outdone, Yukimura and Sanada moved into the circle as well.

"How about you two over there?" called Fuji out towards Kevin and Toushi, who were both holing into their favorite loveseats and downing their third—probably—can of Budweiser each.

"Hai, we're in!" called Toushi, grinning as he pulled Kevin up. "Come on, lazy ass."

Kevin rolled his eyes and rose from his seat.

As the circle finished forming, Eiji pulled out a bottle from behind him and placed it in the middle.

"So we'll do it spin-the-bottle style?" noted Toushi.

"That'll work," Fuji nodded. "We have to pick someone who'll start. The one who spins will ask. Then the one who answers will spin afterwards and then ask the next person."

"Ja, let's start with Eiji-senpai, since he's the one who had the idea," Momoshiro quipped.

Without any further ado, Eiji spun.

Eyes trained firmly on the spinning bottle, hypnotizing some of the tipsy onlookers for a while before it slowed and lurched into a stop and pointed to…

"Unyaaa, Atobe! Truth or dare?" Eiji asked, tapping his chin. Apparently, the redhead was already thinking of a dare. Knowing the young Hyotei captain, he wasn't going to back down and choose truth.

Heads leaned forward eagerly.

"Dare, of course. Ore-sama will not back down," Atobe pretentiously said.

Eiji hummed in contemplation, nodding occasionally. "Well, first, let's make a promise that no one will take the dares personally and won't hold a vendetta towards the player who dared them after this game," Eiji quipped.

"Are you scared?" Atobe insinuated, raising an eyebrow.

Eiji huffed indignantly. "Just looking out for my own safety, thanks!"

"Saa, I think that's a good idea," Yukimura smiled silently. The chatter died down at his words. "Considering what certain people in this circle can do, I think it's better if we do make that promise."

"Darou, darou?" Eiji nodded, bouncing.

"That's right!" Momo followed, the murmurs starting up again.

"Yeah," Kevin nodded. "If, for example, the bottle lands on Fuji-san and he's dared something, I _certainly_ don't want to be on the receiving end of his revenge afterwards."

There was a collective hush and nods around the circle followed.

Fuji smiled. "Saa…"

Heads turned.

"Since Kevin mentioned me as one of the _certain people_ who can do… ahh, unhappy things—which has truth, yes—I'll be one of the people who'll make sure that this promise is seen through, ok? And whoever breaks it…"

There was an ominous silence following his words.

"We _understand_, Fuji, so _please_," Kevin exasperatedly said as the others recoiled from the tensai. "Stop scaring the shit out of them."

"Arara, gomen, gomen," Fuji smiled amicably, waving his hand dismissively. His angel façade was back up again. Kevin sighed and simply shook his head hopelessly.

"E-eto, so Atobe's dare," Eiji began, slightly shifting in his seat. "I'm kinda curious, soooo…"

"So? Ore-sama does not like waiting, so spit it out already."

"So I want you to eat three burgers under 5 minutes!" Eiji blurted out.

There was silence, before Kevin started laughing. The boy started pounding a pillow from one sofa against the floor in front of him, struggling to breathe while under hysterics.

"Eh? Oi, Kevin, the dare's not even started yet!" Momoshiro pointed out.

"B-But—" Kevin said, breaking off for another peal of laughter as he pointed a withering finger at Atobe, who was looking slightly bemused as he snapped his finger at the majordomo. The elderly servant bowed his way out of the room and into the neighboring kitchens to retrieve three burgers. "—Ato-tobe—" Kevin tried again, but broke off. Toushi raised an eyebrow. "—burgers—_choke_—Ryo—bwahahaha!"

For a while, the only sound in the room was Kevin's hysterical laughter.

"Did he just say 'Ryo'?" asked Fuji.

"I dunno, he slurred his words," shrugged Toushi.

But when they glanced at Atobe, his face had morphed from bemusement to irritation.

"You mean you know about that, Kevin?" Atobe asked, his voice flat.

"Of _course_ I do!!" Kevin laughed.

Atobe was silenced for a bit as Kevin continued laughing. Then he turned his face sharply away. "Tch."

Bewildered faces were scattered all around the circle.

"Oh, yeah!!" Nanjiroh quipped. "I remember! Kei-chan choked while eating a burger out of a dare before!"

"Yeah, yeah, that!" Kevin nodded, chortling. "Ryoma has a picture! That was hilarious!! And at a Wendy's restaurant too!"

"Ore-sama was merely being gallant enough to indulge Ryoma's burger fetish," Atobe snapped. Kevin's peal of laughter only resumed at his statement.

The majordomo walked back into the room, carrying with him three normal-sized burgers on a plate and laid it in front of Atobe.

"Alright, who has a stopwatch?" came someone's voice. Nanjiroh tossed the stopwatch he used to time their walk-sprints on the beach towards Eiji, who set it up with a few clicks.

"Ready when you are," Atobe shrugged, poking at the burger as if it was something alien. Momoshiro suppressed the urge to snicker out of pure respect, but Kevin had _no_ respect to draw urge from, so the blonde was rolling on the floor with raucous peals of laughter.

Eiji nodded. "Go!"

Atobe picked the first burger up and started wolfing it down. Along the way, somebody whipped out a camera—most probably Fuji—and started clicking. The flashes blinded some of the people for it was dimly lit inside the room, but Atobe paid no heed. The Hyotei captain continued eating his burgers as if there was no other worry in the world. In under two minutes, Atobe finished one and a half.

Momoshiro's eyes were as huge as saucers.

"Oi, peach butt, he's even faster than you are!" exclaimed Gakuto, who was wonderfully entranced by Atobe eating a burger as well.

"Hunyaaaa, I never thought Atobe was capable of eating burgers!" Eiji screamed as Atobe finished his second and moved to the third.

Kevin was still laughing on the floor, while Fuji was contently humming to himself, checking the pictures he captured from Atobe and fiddling with the digital camera. Tezuka beside him remained as expressionless as ever, and Yukimura simply chuckled. Sanada was looking away from Atobe, as if saying 'I don't want to witness you embarrass yourself'.

Atobe finished his third in four minutes flat, and Eiji mock-fainted.

"He can eat BURGERS!" Eiji screamed. "Oishi, BURGERS, nya!"

Kevin was still snorting and chortling beside Toushi, who was already inching away. Occasionally, the blonde would half-disguise a short segue of more laughter as snorts and silent chuckles.

And then Atobe burped behind his hand.

Silence.

"OH MY GOD, HE BURPED! HE CAN BURP!" screamed Eiji, this time fainting for real.

Silence.

Atobe stared down at the fainted Eiji disdainfully. "I _am_ human after all, Kikumaru."

Fuji chuckled dryly, "Pardon him. It's not his fault he doesn't see you as one, considering your being a monkey king and all…"

Sparks flew as another glaring match ensued between Atobe and Fuji.

"Atobe, Fuji," Tezuka reprimanded. "Stop it. The game is waiting. Atobe, spin."

"I know," Atobe said snappishly. "I don't need you looking over my shoulder, Tezuka."

"With you behaving like that, I beg to differ," Tezuka almost-snorted.

Without further comments, the now-irked Hyotei captain spun the bottle, and quite ferociously at that.

"Nyaa, I wonder who it'll be this time," the redhead hummed, awake from his stupor. The acrobat was bouncing on his butt, while beside him Oishi simply chuckled.

"Please, not _me_!" Momoshiro whined, seeing Atobe's scary expression.

"I'd like a turn," Yukimura said silently.

And as if in a magical trance, the bottle slowed and lurched to a silent halt, pointing squarely at Yukimura.

Silence.

"Ne, Yukimura-san, do you have magic?" Eiji asked innocently.

"No, pure coincidence," Yukimura laughed, waving it off. "I'll dare. Saa, Atobe, what will it be?"

Atobe's thought for a moment, each second worsening the images procured by the alcohol-induced fertile imagination granted to the players gathered around the circle. Then, the captain's face morphed into an evil, evil smile that made Momoshiro literally crawl away from Atobe as much as possible.

_Sweet revenge, Tezuka,_ the captain thought, before saying, "I'd like you to give our Tezuka-buchou a lap-dance, Yukimura. To the Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps", if you please."

There was a stunned silence following his announcement.

"YATTA! SOMETHING WORTH WATCHING!" rejoiced Kevin. "Ne, ne, Atobe, get video cams! Somebody get the stereos ready, come on!!!"

Fuji giggled softly under his hand, whipping a digital video camera out of nowhere. The tensai started pressing the buttons here and there, his fingers a pale blur against the dim light. It seems Fuji was unaffected by the fact that Yukimura, an equally sensually attractive captain, will be giving a lap dance to his own boyfriend. But of course, only a select few were certain about the relationship so no one really thought anything of it.

"Oh, oh, oh, maybe Yukimura-san should change outfit, ne?" Toushi suggested, downing a shot glass smoothly.

Atobe inwardly sighed. _These youngsters are even worse off with alcohol than we are. But at least, they_ can_ handle themselves. Unlike some others._

"That would take too looooong," whined Eiji. "Come oooon!"

Atobe's majordomo moved into the room the next second. "Bocchama, the surround sound system has been arranged. The song is ready. We are waiting for your signal."

Atobe smiled evilly, turning to Yukimura, who was thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling. Sanada beside him was visibly irritated, but said nothing nonetheless. At least, the fukubuchou was a sensible gamer. "Saa, Yukimura-buchou, are we ready?"

Yukimura snapped out of his stupor, before smiling. "Ara, gomen, I was thinking of how to dance it… but yes, whenever you're ready, Atobe."

Atobe preened with self-satisfaction, nodding and snapping his fingers. Eiji, Momoshiro, Gakuto, Kevin and Toushi all leaned eagerly forward, heedlessly showing their apparent interest,even though the one being dared was the Rikkaidai captain. Asuka was pushing through the crowd to the front and resumed bouncing beside Eiji, while Shinichi snorted and remained at the far side of the room, relaxed against the loveseat but still with a good view of Tezuka and Yukimura. Inui and Renji were conversing with each other in hushed whispers, before they snapped towards the view as the beat started.

At the first beat started, Yukimura slowly crawled towards Tezuka, the friendly innocent smile gone from the beautifully sculptured face, replaced by a sensual, alluring smile that had most of the occupants in the room entranced, excluding Fuji and Shinichi. (The latter was far too laid back and detached to be affected by anything at all.)

The Rikkaidai captain slid in front of Tezuka and reached out a hand that brushed the edge of the Seigaku captain's half-concealed collarbone, before sliding down against the toned chest. Tezuka remained quietly impassive, but Yukimura knew the said bespectacled young man was not unaffected. The heartbeat was rapidly increasing and it was as clear as crystal when Yukimura pressed his palm against Tezuka's chest. The soft beating was clear through the thin summer polo the Seigaku captain wore.

At the second beat, Yukimura slowly stood up, twisting his hips and brushing his face against Tezuka's cheek, letting a gust of hot breath ghost against the Seigaku captain's skin. He bucked his hips lightly along the beat, nudging against Tezuka's shoulder as he sauntered around the captain sensually. Yukimura slid down ever so slowly behind Tezuka, brushing his bucking butt against the stoic captain's back, before standing, turning around, and half-twisting half-sinking his way down again.

He slid a sensual hand down firmly against Tezuka's chest from behind, starting from the right shoulder and going down diagonally to the left hip. Yukimura lightly tapped his tongue against Tezuka's ear as he maneuvered his face beside Tezuka's. His eyes smoldered as he caught sight of Tezuka's jaw muscles jumping in concentration and tension, and he smiled lightly against Tezuka's skin. He brushed his lips down Tezuka's jaw, feather-light touches evidently driving the captain crazy.

Yukimura was well-aware of the countless video cameras recording his actions, but fun times are fun times, and dares are dares. His smile widened as Tezuka screwed his eyes shut under the glasses. The highest beat came up and he slid his hip closer to Tezuka's lower back, starting to hump lightly.

As the Rikkaidai captain erotically slid up and down against Tezuka's back, letting hot breaths puff against the flush skin of the other captain, the chants rode with the song's undulating beats. Jeers and cheers reached his ears over the loud music.

"GO YUKI! GO YUKI! GO YUKI! GO YUKI! GO YUKI! GO YUKI!"

"Wohoo!!"

"Goddamn, that's hot, Mura-buchou!"

"I LOVE YOU, BABY! THAT'S BURNING HOT, MONKEY!"

"Tezuka-buchou, don't hold it back!"

"Yeah!!"

A hilarious chortle came underneath the onslaught of voices. "Yappari, partying with all these hormone-packed high school students is fun! I even get to watch free porn!"

Under all the noise, Tezuka was sure he heard Fuji's light cackle of delight. Apparently, the tensai was not in the least jealous, and was in fact enjoying this little show of Atobe's. He felt thankful that Ryoma was attacked by a sudden dizzy spell earlier and fell asleep even before the party—he suspected Atobe put something in the boy's drink during or after dinner—and that the younger player wasn't here to see this.

There were videos, sure, but of course, who would be able to think rationally under the onslaught of Yukimura's seductive prowess?

Yukimura slid his hands around Tezuka, spreading and splaying against the toned chest from behind, while the hips undulated against his lower back, sliding up and down. He could feel a bulge, insinuating that he wasn't the only one being aroused by this bizarre situation.

The Rikkaidai captain slowly slid around Tezuka and very carefully situated himself on the said Seigaku captain's lap, sidling closer and closer until he and Tezuka were chest to chest, cheek to cheek. Yukimura dipped in without warning, grinding himself against Tezuka before swooping down and capturing Tezuka's lips in his own.

Yukimura's left hand dragged itself up Tezuka's upper arm, through his shoulder, and up his neck, settling at the Seigaku captain's nape to bear the brunt of the kiss. Slowly, Yukimura nibbled on Tezuka's lower lip, pleased to feel the lips part under his command—Tezuka was apparently too stunned to register what was happening, because he didn't see any other sign of surrender from the Seigaku captain. Yukimura slid his tongue in to coax Tezuka into an erotic slow tango.

Tezuka, on the other hand, froze. His mind was whirring in overdrive as he tried to make sense of what was happening, but there was no hope. He was shutting down.

As everything blanked out, the Seigaku captain angled his head slightly and started kissing back. Cheers grew louder among the chants as Yukimura almost-smiled against his lips, nibbling and sucking here and there as he ground against Tezuka. Soon enough, it became a blur. Teeth on skin, lips and tongue, hands dragging, chest against chest, pleasant friction, heady breaths, hot air, and undulating beats.

"Maybe we can try a foursome sometime, ne, Sanada," chuckled Fuji, suddenly appearing behind the fukubuchou, who was entranced with the charm of the sensual show himself.

"Maybe," nodded Sanada, smirking slightly.

As the last beat bumped through the surround speakers, Yukimura bucked one last time against Tezuka's before giving the captain a kiss beside the mouth from behind.

The song ended among loud, raucous cheers, and Yukimura slid away from the Seigaku captain, sensual smile gone and replaced once again by the innocent, friendly mask.

Yukimura simply nodded to Tezuka, and the said captain nodded back mutely. Atobe seemed bemused, probably at Tezuka's self-control.

Fuji slid behind Atobe silently. "You haven't seen anything of his _self-control_ yet, Atobe. Nothing yet."

With that, Fuji sidled back to Tezuka's side and nudged the captain, cackling silently as he showcased his excellently-taken video. Tezuka groaned uncharacteristically, shaking his head. Fuji was completely unaffected, that much was certain. It was either that the tensai was extremely confident about Tezuka's self-control, or that he was extremely confident in his own skills to seduce. The Seigaku captain had the feeling that it was the latter.

"Another addition to my Tezuka collection," muttered Fuji as the circle reformed, still tittering and chattering about Yukimura's excellent dancing. "Yukimura, that was a very good performance."

"Ah, thanks," nodded Yukimura smilingly. The Rikkaidai captain reached for the bottle and spun non-chalantly. "Whomever it lands on will be extremely lucky."

The chatter stopped as the bottle slowed, eyes anxiously anticipating where the bottle will stop. As if hypnotized, numerous sets of eyes followed the bottle as it landed on—

"Nooooo, why me?!?!" Gakuto wailed as the bottle spun the last one inch and landed on him. Gakuto gripped his red hair and pulled in distraught.

Yukimura softly giggled. "Saa… truth or dare?"

"Dare! Dare!" Momoshiro prodded.

"Daaaare!" Toushi and Kevin drew out.

"It'll be an interesting dare," Renji nodded.

"Ii data. Dare."

"BURNING, BABY, DARE IT, BABY!"

"DARE, GAKUTO, DON'T YOU DARE BACK DOWN!" Eiji all but screamed.

"WHO SAID I WAS BACKING DOWN?!" Gakuto screamed back heatedly. He huffed and turned to Yukimura. "Dare."

Yukimura pursed his lips. "Honestly, you two are so loud," he sighed, pertaining obviously to the two redheads, who immediately blushed at the respected Rikkaidai's comment.

(It was actually amazing how the rate of respect for the Rikkaidai captain seemed to have increased instead of decreased after Yukimura's performance with Tezuka. And the Seigaku captain received more credit for his solid self-control—nobody blamed him for responding to that kiss; it was Yukimura, after all—which exceeded expectations.)

"But!" Yukimura continued. "I have _just_ the solution for that," he grinned, turning towards Gakuto. "Saa, Gakuto-kun, I want you to French kiss Eiji-kun for a whole minute."

Silence.

…

"WHAT?!"

"NO FUCKING WAY IN HELL!"

"Ii data."

"BURNING, BABY!"

"Who gave him a racket?"

"Bwahahaha, free porn, free porn!"

"**_Damn, Eiji-senpai, get OFF! Don't blame me for this! Toushi, get him off—_**"

"You can't back down now, Gakuto-senpai, you can't!"

Giggle. "I'll be sure to take a video, Eiji."

"E-E-Eiji! Calm down!"

"Gaku—can't—eathe!"

Fuji chuckled at the chaos turning up in front of him. Oh, how he loved chaos. After all, not only did it open many opportunities to exploit, it also offered him the chance to experiment. Poking and prodding around while the specimen is distracted is the best way to get around after all.

But alas, they had a game going, and he wanted to get his own turn soon.

The tensai cleared his throat, and a momentary silence settled over the crowd. The action denoted and showed just how much respect—or, for a more accurate term, fear—the people inside the room gave to Fuji.

"Saa, Gakuto, Eiji, we all signed up for this game and agreed that we would do what we're asked to, irregardless on what that might be," Fuji prodded. "Of course, if it's something that will cause permanent damage, we'll put a stop to it—"

"THIS WILL CAUSE PERMANENT DAMAGE, FUJIKO!" screamed Eiji.

But Fuji continued as if not hearing him.

"—but something like this is… shall we say, _trivial_ and does not qualify into the category of the things we should put a stop to, so why don't we all just stop this quarreling and get a move on it?"

"NO WAY!" Gakuto adamantly refused. "NO, NO, NO!"

"Saa, are you_ sure_ you want to _refuse_?" Fuji smilingly clarified, his facial features giving away nothing that can assert to the hidden insinuation behind the words and the ominous consequence if Gakuto was to answer 'yes'.

…

"Eiji, Gakuto, Yukimura did his dare even if he has—no offense for saying this—a bigger reputation at risk," Fuji pointed out. "And to be fair, you need to do the same."

Eiji whined. "But Fuji, _anything_, _anyone,_ just not _him!_"

"_Eiji_!" snapped Fuji.The redhead was silenced as Fuji used a sharp tone.

The two redheads groaned and looked at each other, foreheads creased.

"This is your fault."

Eiji gritted his teeth. "And exactly _how_ is that?"

"You forced me to dare."

"This is as much your fault as mine."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

Gakuto sighed, averting his gaze. "Fine. One time. One kiss. Period."

"Un."

Then, as if there had been no conversation in the first place, both redheads swooped forward and held each other level as the one-minute French kiss ensued. Cheers erupted from the circle, laced with the occasional jeer here and there. Nanjiroh was eagerly leaning forward in his seat, transfixed.

"…I never thought you were a fan of male-on-male, Nan-ji-chan," Atobe remarked, taking a sip of his first-class hundred-year-old wine.

"Anything porn passes with me," Nanjiroh said.

Atobe chortled in reply to that. After a minute passed, Gakuto and Eiji jumped apart, one rushing towards the small kitchen's sink to throw up, and the other to the first floor bathroom to 'cleanse his mouth of the ickyness'.

Fuji chuckled, happily organizing his pictures in his camera again. The tensai was apparently having the time of his life.

"Gakuto! Oi, Gakuto, are you still alive?" Oshitari called, standing back and approaching his doubles partner, who was doubled over in front of the sink of the small kitchen bar in the common room, retching his insides out. "Come on, spin the bottle first, then you can go and die retching if you want."

"That's harsh!" pouted Gakuto, washing his mouth with hot water again, before sauntering back sullenly to the circle. Eiji was still nowhere to be found. The redhead Hyotei player sank down on his cushion and spun the bottle haphazardly, making it only spin one full circle then stop.

And the bottle was pointed to Sanada.

"YATTA!" Gakuto rejoiced, cackling. "Payback! Truth or dare?"

Sanada raised an eyebrow. _There's no way in hell I'm daring._

"T—"

"Gen-chan," Yukimura smiled, leaning against Sanada. "Gakuto's asking a question. Answer it properly."

_Then again, there _is

"Dare," Sanada silently huffed, much to the glee of a positively bouncing Gakuto and the bemusement of the rest of the people inside the circle.

"Ii data," Inui nodded, his voice quite audible this time since Eiji wasn't there to make much noise, and Gakuto was thinking of the dare. "Sanada, the authoritative figure of Rikkaidai, is convinced using the same way Tezuka, the authoritative figure of Seigaku, can be convinced. Yukimura and Fuji both use the same means. Interesting."

Fuji smiled. "Exactly, Inui. Why resort to violent means when there's another way to persuade?" he pointed out. "Darou, Yukimura-san?"

"Of course."

Kevin and Toushi recoiled. "Oni…"

Momoshiro simply chortled. "That only means Tezuka-buchou and Sanada-fukubuchou are both ass-whipped."

Atobe erupted in laughter at that comment.

"SOU DA!" Gakuto grinned. "Ja, Sanada-san, no grudges, okay? I dare you to dress up as a geisha—complete make-up, complete dress, complete everything—for a full day tomorrow. We're not going anywhere anyways, and tonight is far too short for us to… _appreciate_ your…"

"Beauty," prompted Kamio, nodding approvingly.

"Yes, your _beauty_," sniggered Gakuto. "So, a dare's a dare. Tomorrow, you're dressing up."

Sanada sighed, screwing his eyes shut, before nodding. _I'm so doomed._

Gakuto cackled and handed the fukubuchou the bottle. Sanada blankly took it and spun.

"Not me, not me, not me…" chanted Kirihara audibly over the lively chatter of the crowd. The tipsiness and the dizzy spells from the alcohol seemed to have disappeared along with the sleepiness brought about by the deepness of the night. Amidst the lively banter, it was hard to close your eyes and drown in peaceful darkness, because even if it _was_ a bit dark inside the room, there was no such thing as _peaceful_ as long as they were playing inside it.

"Ne, Kirihara-san, why don't you want it to be you so much?" Momoshiro asked, but he didn't get an answer.

And as if magic, the bottle stopped and pointed towards Kirihara.

The Rikkaidai player wailed.

"Akaya," Sanada calmly said, apparently recovered from the shock of his imminent doom. "Well? Truth or dare?"

Kirihara whined, meeting Sanada's eyes, and he knew he would never hear the end of it from the Emperor _and_ Yukimura if he didn't dare.

"Fine. Dare."

Sanada smiled grimly. "Good. Then as a punishment for misbehaving and not following my orders _all the time_, I dare you to stop eating your egg sandwiches for a month."

"WHAT?!?!"

"Be thankful it's not something like what I did, A-ka-chan," crowed Yukimura, twinkling. "I don't think you'll be able to survive with your reputation as in tact as mine is, frankly because your reputation is not yet as… ah, _demanding_ as mine. Am I correct?"

Kirihara deflated, before nodding.

"Awww, poor baby, you'll get through the month in no time," Momoshiro cooed, apparently drunk to try and approach Kirihara recklessly as such.

And the reaction was as expected.

The Rikkaidai player's eyes snapped to Momoshiro, almost bleeding red because of the dunk smash player's fun poking at him. He grabbed at the bottle and spun it wildly, letting it spin a blur and willing it with his mind to stop to Momoshiro.

And miraculously, it did.

"Ouch," Kevin murmured. "Momo-senpai, I feel for you."

But Momoshiro didn't hear. "DARE!" he yelled, without even letting Kirihara ask first.

Kirihara grinned manically. "Then I dare you to go and paint Jackal's head as a bull's eye," he said, eyes wild. Momoshiro froze. Jackal was notorious for practically _worshipping_ his own head, particularly his bald cut. And _no one_ messed with that guy, since even though the countenance was polite and presentable, the raging bull inside was fierce.

Oh, he was in for a tough dare.

"And I want you to be able to do it by tomorrow afternoon at five. If you don't, you parade naked for the whole night tomorrow night, and you'll eat dinner with us, stay in the common room with us, and do training with us as well, if it drags into the night."

Momoshiro's options withered before his eyes.

So it was death by Jackal's hands, or humiliation in everybody's eyes.

Was it so hard to choose?

Jackal's glare intensified.

No, it wasn't.

"You're dead, Momo-senpai," Toushi snickered. "_So_ dead."

Momoshiro groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"Oi, spin," prodded Kamio, pushing the bottle towards the slumped Seigaku player. Now there were _two_ dares they could look forward to the next day. That should be enough comical relief to last them a while. And trusting what the natures of the diverse cluster of players gathered around were, they were bound _never_ to run out of comical relief.

Momoshiro took the bottle and spun. He wasn't even paying attention to it.

And it landed on—

"FINALLY!" screeched Nanjiroh, making everyone in the vicinity jump. (But of course, those stoic people won't show it, because _jumping _is an undefined action. For them.)

Fuji chuckled. "Saa, were you so eager, Nanjiroh-san?"

Nanjiroh simply grinned.

Momoshiro leaned back and tapped his chin. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Fuji answered almost immediately, receiving loud, pronounced groans all over the room, and a snort from Atobe. (But of _course_, Atobe's don't _snort_, so let's just call it an indignant sound.)

There was silence after the groans.

"Unfortunately, gentlemen, tonight, I am not up to strip dancing or lap dancing anyone, like Yukimura-buchou did," sighed Fuji wistfully. "Maybe, if someone's lucky enough to land another spin on me, I'll dare."

More groans.

"Saa? Question?"

Momoshiro sighed. He didn't want to ask this particular question that came up in his mind, but he couldn't think of anything else worth asking. And it was interesting enough indeed, since it was unconfirmed, but strongly hinted, and yet strongly contradicted—mainly because of Ryoma.

He decided to brave it with honesty—or more likely, frankness.

"Ja, Fuji-senpai, no offense, but do you have a relationship with Tezuka-buchou?" Momoshiro asked frankly.

There was a sudden hush.

Fuji smiled, tipping his head to one side, as if considering how he should answer, or if he should ever answer at all. Everyone knew that despite the game, Fuji could refuse if he wanted to. Fuji was not named and respected as The Unconquered Tensai for nothing.

"Yes."

Momoshiro's breath came out of him in one, sudden rush of surprise. Atobe didn't look too surprised, but raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn't expected Fuji to actually _admit_ it, meaning he actually already knew. Tezuka simply closed his eyes, as he was accustomed to do when he wanted to express an emotion and he didn't know how to do so. Yukimura's smile simply widened, while Sanada remained still. Tachibana calmly sipped his spiked punch. It seemed no secret to the higher-ups of their cluster.

Inui and Renji were scribbling away madly, and would most probably compare data later, but it seemed they were not surprised for the most part. And Kevin didn't seem fazed at the information, but there was a troubled look in his eyes.

"Fuji."

Fuji's eyes landed on Kevin's, and there was a spark as stormy blue clashed against clear blue. _Ryoma doesn't know._

"You _promised_."

"I know," Fuji nodded.

"You'd _better_ do that promise justice."

Before Fuji could answer, though, Atobe stood up smoothly, though rather stiffly and hurriedly. "Ore-sama is no longer entertained. Ore-sama needs his beauty sleep, and ore-sama will retire for the night. And ore-sama needs to filter out the alcohol from ore-sama's system."

The young master quickly swept out of the room in the midst perfect silence.

…

"Well, that was rather sudden," muttered Tachibana.

"He's just concerned about his beauty sleep, Tachibana-san," snorted Gakuto, waving it off. "Don't mind him."

Nobody noticed a pair of golden eyes blurring with tears as the owner walked off hurriedly back into his own chambers just before Atobe stood.

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

**ADVANCED Warning(s):** Angst in the next chapter.

My deepest apologies for the delay of this chapter. The first week of the spring semester was pretty hectic, and my new accelerated class Anatomy and Physiology is quite taxing, and requires quite a bit of reading and note-arrangements. I do hope you guys understand. I did my best to finish this chapter in time, but I just didn't manage.

However, I _do_ want to inform you that from now on, I'll be setting a certain schedule for updates. **Updates will be weekly, every Tuesday evening**. Since I will be free weekends, I will be able to write. Then I will need to give Tria-chan allowance to edit and add some things before uploading, and see if she approves. My weekly schedule is pretty tight right now, but rest assured I _will_ be making time for One Step. I've grown to love this story just as much as you people have, and the plot is starting to get interesting, so I'm not going to let go anytime soon.

Thank you for understanding my predicament. I'm sincerely sorry for the delays, and I know all of you've been waiting for _so_ long, and as such, I will try my best not to repeat this incident again.

**Kiasidira Ixari/Aventria**  
_01.24.07_


	16. Step Sixteen: Cat and Mouse

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Hokay.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimers apply.

**Warning(s):** Angst. But of course, there's always the touch of humor with it.

**Q: Why is Ryoma hurt about Fuji and Tezuka's revealed relationship?**

**A:** Well, simple thing. **Because he never _knew_ there was a relationship.** Look back. There was _not_ a single sentence where I said that Ryoma knew about Tezuka and Fuji's relationship, nor did I say that the others actually _knew_ for _sure_ that there was a relationship. Everyone—and I mean _everyone_, except the omniscient ones (Yukimura, Inui, Atobe, Renji, Sanada, Tachibana…)—_assumed_ that Tezuka and Fuji were just really close friends with some common interests that go deep and history that goes parallel with that, and that they were prepared to take the next step _together with Ryoma._ Ryoma, of course, assumed the same thing. You know how people say it. Sometimes, the ones who are in the center of the circle are _unaware_ that they _are_ in the center of the circle. Makes things more complicated, but more interesting, in my opinion.

And to those who are asking about Atobe and Ryoma, **_patience is a virtue_**. Ha! Ore-sama (Aventria: cough Wareware Kia, wareware is the right word. Or did you change gender all of the sudden without telling me again?) is not going to give you details about this until it's time, and time is soon. Wait for it.

Just wanted to clear it up.

Oh, and to those people who are asking if this is an AtoRyo… didn't I already announce that it's a TezuRyoFuji? And Atobe has Jiroh, duh. (Let me hear it, AtoJiroh fans!)

Hah, hurrah. **Watch out for more clues regarding Atobe and Ryoma's relationship.** More are coming up.

And Kevin fans, brace yourselves. Kia-chan is plotting something. (Or shall we say, Kia-chan has already plotted out something.)

* * *

**Revision Note(s): **

_Aventria:  
Hullo, loyal minions…… erm ……readers, right, readers (cough). **The entire chapter is finally beta-ed/revised.** Nothing too major, just a few tweaks here and there but I still suggest reading it once again because (if I don't say it now, it will probably bite me in the ass) those minor changes may or may not affect the future chapters. If you want to review again and/or ask questions, feel free and if you've out-reviewed your computer (which is entirely possible), you can PM/contact myself or Kia. E-mails are all in Kia's profile page, as well as mailing list links._

* * *

**Step Sixteen: Cat and Mouse**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Atobe hissed in frustration, though almost inaudibly, as he wove through the hubbub of drunken tennis players. He was pretty sure that all of them would be sporting migraines the following day, and as such, he regulated his alcohol intake to remain sensible and awake.

But right now, the splitting headache he was feeling was _worse_ than any hangover headache could give.

He swerved towards the Bay Wing, scaling the corridors with fast, long strides to catch up with the stumbling silhouette of the smaller, lean player ahead of him, in the shadows of the late night bordering on early morn. In a considerably short minute, he caught up with the obviously disconcerted figure that was Echizen Ryoma, reached out an arm, and grasped the younger one's muscled shoulder.

Atobe tried to pry Ryoma towards him, but the boy struggled as expected. Atobe grunted in frustration and roughly pulled the boy backwards, startling the teen who gasped at the sudden pressure. Ryoma stumbled backwards against Atobe's chest. The older player whirled him around a tad bit too rough, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin to reveal the tear-blurred golden eyes.

Atobe frowned, the hands on Ryoma's shoulder turning gentle and caring when he was sure that the younger one would no longer run.

"Ryoma. You know I hate to see you cry," Atobe murmured in the dark, their forms silhouetted blurrily under the blue moonlight streaming from the open windows of the Bay Wing. The crashing sea outside was the only partial sound around them, along with the slight pitter-patter of the oncoming storm.

Ryoma said nothing. The teen simply sniffed inaudibly and averted his gaze, turning his head away from Atobe's fingers to evade the pressure of having to look straight into the taller, older player's eyes.

"Ryoma."

There was silence after Atobe repeated the prodigy's name with a slightly chiding tone, the undercurrent of concern blatantly evident. There was no need to hide.

"I—" Ryoma started, his breath hitching and his voice breaking from his attempt to hold in the tears. It was as if the boy was berating himself for crying in the first place.

"You…?" prompted Atobe, prodding carefully and holding the boy in place by the shoulders.

"I-I know I shouldn't feel h-hurt…" he said, trailing off.

"…but?" Atobe prompted yet again, knowing that there was more to it than what the boy was saying.

Ryoma sniffed, a streak of stubbornness appearing as the golden eyes hardened in frustration and exasperation. "God, I hate the fact that you know me so well!" groaned the boy, a glimpse of how he normally was floating to the surface of the subdued lake that was his emotions.

Atobe smirked. "Mochiron, ne," the rich young bachelor quipped proudly, drawing himself up to full height and lifting his head regally. "_Ore-sama no bigi ni yoi na._"

Ryoma rolled his eyes, trying and failing to repress the chuckles bubbling beneath his tears. "Damare, monkey king," he snorted. (_t/r: Damare 'Be quiet', or, for the ruder term, 'Shut up'._)

Atobe smiled, proud at himself inwardly for having momentarily lightened Ryoma up enough to be able to recondition the young man. He knew that when Ryoma was in one of these depressed moods alone, he would spiral deep into it, and would be inaccessible to the living world for at least a week or two, depending on the extent of depression. He was able to prevent it before it happened, fortunately. Having a zombie for an ace would _terribly_ cripple Seigaku, and though he had no qualms that Seigaku could push through the Regionals even with_out_ Ryoma, he wasn't so sure about the Districts, or further on.

Midorigaoka on full force, no matter how idiotically ridiculous they might have looked, is a formidable enemy. Rikkaidai, having been reawakened by Yukimura's returned captaincy, was slamming down on them full-force. Yukimura hadn't been the captain last year, and Kirihara wasn't present in the Regulars until the resume of the current term after all. Fudou also looked good to go this term, and Atobe knew Tachibana wasn't a force to be trifled with. If there was any team that had the perfect team coordination, it would be Tachibana's team.

On the Nationals level, Ryokuryou Koto Gakkou of Kyoto had _every_ intention of pummeling everyone who dared stand in their path. The Senior Selections this year was also a fierce thing, considering they were now on high school level, and high school level tennis was considered eligible professional level.

Of course, Hyotei was _very_ far from falling behind. In the whole of Tokyo, Hyotei was tying first with Rikkaidai and Midorigaoka, though he had this nagging feeling that this particular arrangement won't be standing for long. After all, Fudou was back full-force, and Seigaku was even stronger (if that was possible) than they were during their peak in middle school, what with Kevin and Ryoma joining them on the front lines, and Nanjiroh backing them on the borders. If there was one team in the face of the earth they lived in who managed to spout surprises at each corner and shatter every single expectation thrown at them, it would be Tezuka's ever-adaptive, ever-steady, ever-strong team of diverse players.

Having the Regionals within less than a week was heightening the tension within the Odaiba Manor, but players weren't going to give up the (hellish) training camp for petty disagreements. Despite the torture they were going under, they were not stupid enough to give up something as beneficial as special training under a more-than-qualified former pro coach such as Echizen Nanjiroh. (Nor were they willing to give up free banquets every meal, servants to clean up after them, a _huge_ house to live in, and a whole month away from the peeled eyes of parents, free to '_frolic_' and fool around as much as they wanted.)

Wrenching his mind away from such unnecessary thoughts and pushing back to more demanding, imminent matters at hand, Atobe applied slight pressure on Ryoma's shoulders, effectively catching the boy's attention once again after the lapse of silence. Atobe turned him around and steered him towards the master suite.

"You can sleep in the master's suite tonight."

Ryoma mumbled, "Promise you won't do anything disgustingly lewd to me?"

Atobe snorted indignantly. "I beg to differ," he sniffed superiorly, sounding like a spoiled kid (which he probably was). "Ore-sama is no pervert."

At that, Ryoma took his turn to snort indignantly. "Right, and all the players in this house are straight," he said pointedly, sniffing.

Atobe grunted in frustration, not seeing Ryoma's hidden smirk. The younger player loved it when Atobe was aggravated and defeated in their playful banters and arguments. Tennis was something they shared as a strength, but when it came to bantering, Ryoma was always better. Not that Atobe wasn't a good argumentative speaker, goodness no. The young Atobe heir was an _excellent_ arguer, since he was naturally raised and taught those things as it was helpful for business. Ryoma was just _better_. _Naturally_ better.

And he _loved_ it, having one up on Atobe.

"Sit."

Another smirk threatened to creep up his face as Atobe sat him down on the edge of the bed.

"Stay."

Atobe firmly ordered, moving around the bed towards the small snack bar that was in one corner. Ryoma mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'I'm not a dog', but remained unheard by the only other occupant of the cool, dark room.

Atobe walked back a moment later, having downed two pills of aspirin to kill his raging headache and still his pending hangover from overrunning his senses. If he had to comfort Ryoma, it would need full attention, and he wasn't going to give less. He handed Ryoma a glass of cold water to cool the boy down, and Ryoma mumbled a warbled thanks before gulping it down greedily and letting the fluid work its way down his parched throat.

After the teary player finished the whole long glass of water, Atobe retrieved the glass, placed it on the bedside table, and sat beside a still-sniffling Ryoma. Atobe heaved a breath, as if he was the one under the hurt—well, he _did_ sport a huge headache—before turning to Ryoma.

"Well, it's okay to let it out now," Atobe announced with a flourish, waving his hand dismissively in the air before him.

Ryoma let out a barely disguised snort of laughter. "You really know me that well."

The statement was left hanging in the air, poised rhetorically and needing no answer.

There was a moment of silence as Atobe waited patiently. He knew that Ryoma was digging himself inside out, sifting through the confusion of emotions inside him. Any moment now, the boy would start spewing off each and every one of those emotions, changing and melding. It was an amazing display of tears, distress, anger, frustration, sadness, hate, love, and pure, unadulterated sorrow. (And colorful language too.)

"Why didn't they tell me before?"

The question came out as a bare whisper, inaudible to normal ears, yet perfectly clear as it crashed down on Atobe's ears. The young master of the manor noted that the younger one was shaking slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands fisting against the pristine white Egyptian silk bed sheets.

"S-So all this t-time…" muttered Ryoma, his voice slowly gaining volume. The faint wave of laughter from downstairs echoed through the empty corridors of the manor's second floor. "A-All this time, I was j-just a—" he abruptly stopped, his eyes hardening as his voice slowly escalated into a shout. "—a _toy_?!" the player spat.

Atobe mentally sighed. _So the first emotion is anger._

"A-A _plaything_ to spice up their sex lives?!" Ryoma furiously galled. "Was that all I was?! A _pet?!_"

Ryoma all but yelled the last part of his tirade, his furious voice echoing inside the soundproofed room. Atobe took measures against eavesdroppers. After all, things that were far from innocent often happened inside the room, and, far from the common public misconception, he wasn't fond of showcasing.

Pulling his mind to focus on Ryoma, Atobe terribly wished he could explain why Tezuka and Fuji didn't tell him about their relationship. Of course, Atobe wasn't any surer than Ryoma was, but he _was_ more sensible right now. He had suspicions on why the two Seigaku aces would wish not to reveal their ongoing long-standing relationship to the very person they wished to pull into it.

Atobe simply sighed, placing a placating hand on the black mop that was Ryoma's hair, the strands tinged an alluring midnight emerald under the blue moonlight's glow. Atobe pulled the boy against him, just like he did years ago, when Ryoma first sought comfort from him. He nuzzled the top of the younger player's head, inhaling the fresh scent of chamomile and orange, Ryoma's favorite shampoo scent.

"No, Ryoma, no," Atobe muttered against the green-tinged black hair. It was a peculiar tinge, he reflected for the nth time, but Atobe never complained. It was beautiful and one of a kind, the exact epitome of what Echizen Ryoma was. "No, of course, you're not. You were not, are not, and will never be one. Ore-sama will **_never_** stand for it."

There was a moment of tense silence as Atobe rocked Ryoma back and forth, before there was a faint rustling of clothes and Atobe felt two smaller, thinner, lean arms clutch around his torso, fisting at his back. He knew his Boss suede shirt would be wrinkled the next morning, but Boss suede shirts were easily replaceable, and Ryoma was not.

"It hurts, Keigo," muttered Ryoma into the front lapels of Atobe's polo shirt. On the bed, a knocked-out Jiroh rolled over and almost toppled to the floor on the far edge. The three of them would easily fit into the huge triple king bed, Atobe mused knowingly. Ryoma wouldn't be well enough to sleep on his own tonight.

_And no disgustingly lewd things_, Atobe chortled to himself mentally.

Atobe sighed and pulled the smaller frame closer.

"It hurts…"

* * *

A groan.

"Moooooooooouuuu… mmm… Oishi… dame…"

A snore.

Silence.

Another snore.

Smack!

"Oomph! Wha…?"

Momoshiro shot up from being draped over the sofa, half of his body sagging off one side. Then he sank back to the couch as fast as he got up, groaning even louder at the sudden bolt of pain shooting up his spine and pooling in his temples. He moaned pitifully.

"Momo, urusai…" Eiji murmured sleepily from the other side of the room where the redhead was draped all over Oishi, who was in turn draped all over the loveseat. Eiji chucked another throw pillow half-heartedly with as much energy as a snail. As expected, the pillow made a pathetic low arc overhead, before plummeting down and bouncing on top of a still-snoozing Kaidoh's face.

"Fsshh!" snapped Kaidoh, startled from his sleep as the pillow landed smack dab on his face. He narrowed his eyes and hissed in frustration, both at the pillow that was half-blocking his eyes and at the swimming vision he was sporting.

"Mmph…" muttered a certain disgruntled blonde, annoyed at the sudden upturn of noise. "Toushi, turn off the lights."

Toushi, who was currently snuggled up against Kevin's side, grunted before dropping back to a light snooze.

Just then, a boisterous voice boomed from atop the stairs, irritating the hell out of the incredibly hung over players littering the couches, puffs, and floor of the common room.

"OI, SEISHOUNEN-TACHI, WAKE UP! BREAKFAST IS WAITING!" boomed an ever-cheerful Nanjiroh, completely unaffected by the alcohol intake the previous night. In fact, it was as if it was any normal day where he woke up from his pitiful wet dreams. "THAT'LL TEACH YOU NOT TO DRINK WHEN YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE ALCOHOL! NOW GET YOUR ASSES UP AND DON'T MAKE THE FOOD WAIT FOR YOU!"

Multiple groans, moans, and grunts of mixed complaints, pain, and discomfort echoed throughout the manor a few seconds later, followed by a multitude of players peeling themselves off the couches and the floor and trooping over to the kitchens with mussed hair, bleary eyes, and morning breaths. And massive hang overs.

There was a very familiar chuckle from the stairs that called the attention of several of them.

An ever-smiling, ever-radiant Fuji stood there, completely unaffected, looking as if he didn't stay up almost the whole night, as if he really managed to get a whole night's fitful sleep. "Minna, you all look like the living dead. Lighten up!" Fuji smiled, slightly tilting his head to one side adorably.

Some of the boys preened under the misleading allure of the tensai. Only Yukimura and Fuji ever managed that certain allure, strong enough to draw even the strongest and most resistant of them (namely Tezuka).

"Fujiko, you're inhuman, nya!" Eiji groaned, one of the lucky people who are slightly immune to Fuji's charms. (Note that it's only _slightly_.) Having been the tensai's known best friend, Eiji was half-used to Fuji's antics. Of course, he didn't completely know how Fuji's mind worked—only Kami-sama is (un)lucky enough to know that.

Fuji simply chuckled at Eiji's expense. "I'm not inhuman, Eiji, simply able to hold my own."

"How do you _do_ that?" groaned Momoshiro, who was practically dragging his feet towards his seat. As soon as he did reach his seat, he slumped unceremoniously and plopped his head on his arms against the table.

Kevin and Toushi settled in their seats, yawning, but looking better than the rest. They simply looked sleep-deprived, but not drunk.

"You two!" snarled Eiji, startling Kevin and making Toushi jump. "How come you aren't hung over?"

Kevin and Toushi dubiously stared at each other. "Uhh… because we're used to drinking?"

"Oh." Silence. "Wait, _what_?!"

Fuji laughed as total chaos ensued once again inside the dining room as one by one, the players started filing in. It was a fairly lively morning for players who looked like hell froze over and the devil waltzed over them during sleep.

Just then, Tezuka came down. Fuji turned on his heels to greet Tezuka a bright good morning, before he saw the look on Tezuka's face. Immediately, Fuji's mood shifted. He was that fickle, that delicate.

"Tezuka?" he asked silently, his voice subdued under the noise and commotion Momoshiro, Kaidoh, Kamio, Eiji, and Gakuto were making over Kevin and Toushi's experience in drinking despite their underage status. Fuji looked up at the darkened features of his captain. "Doushita? Nani ka atta?" _(t/r: Did anything happen?)_

"Ryoma. He's not in his room," Tezuka muttered, keeping his voice below a whisper, audible only to Fuji. True to the statement, Tezuka made his habitual trip to Ryoma's room every morning and found the room vacated, the bed sheets barely wrinkled, the pillows cold, and the table untouched.

"Where could he have—"

Fuji cut himself off as he turned his eyes towards the Cross Room above, his eyes tilting upwards to the top of the stairs.

Just then, Atobe came into the dining room, sauntering and picking his way through the straggled crowd of stinky, hung over players and scrunching up his nose.

"You people reek," he sniffed condescendingly, before turning to the majordomo. "Prepare hot baths, and please, someone air out the manor. The entire place stinks of alcohol."

"Hai, Keigo-bocchama, right away," bowed the majordomo, before bustling out of the dining room. The food was waiting for them on the table, and as each player sat himself down, the maids proceeded pouring the juice.

But Atobe wasn't what caught Fuji's attention. It was the person who was _following_ Atobe.

A downtrodden and tired-looking Ryoma with puffy red eyes and a tired gait trailed behind Atobe, following the young master silently. Atobe didn't seem to mind; in fact, they acted like it was a common day-to-day event to have a zombie-state Ryoma following one around.

Fuji and Tezuka wisely kept their mouths shut and waited for Ryoma's next move before remarking on anything. The other sharper players seemed to notice something was amiss as well, but didn't say anything. Kevin's face had morphed from a bubbly composure into an increasingly worried expression he fought to conceal.

The Seigaku captain and tensai moved to sit on their usual places, leaving a space in between them for Ryoma as usual. However, the boy had other plans. Atobe stood by his usual head seat and waited for Ryoma dragged himself over in a dead manner and sat heavily on the cushioned pads. The servants, seeing this, suddenly exploded into a flurry of motions, a couple of them getting Atobe another similar head seat—which was squeezed between Ryoma at the head of the table at his left, and Tezuka at his right side—and some other servants retrieving the food laid out in front of Atobe and Ryoma and replacing them with some other kind of food.

The whole table remained motionless as Atobe and Ryoma settled in and the servants finished re-serving their meal. From the far opposite end of the table, Nanjiroh gazed on with a slight crease in his forehead, but Fuji had a nagging suspicion that it wasn't because of the seating arrangement, but because of the food. Kevin was staring back and forth between Atobe and Ryoma, keeping his mouth shut, an understanding yet worried twinkle in his eye present, if a bit hidden.

Fuji made his move. Smilingly, he said, "Saa, Ryoma-chan, why don't you sit with us? Surely it would be more… _comfortable_… than being with a _monkey_."

A hush settled over the table.

Ryoma opened his mouth slowly, softly speaking. "I'm happy where I am, Fuji-senpai," the teen said with a flat tone, but everyone knew the sentence meant something else entirely. "Thanks for the _concern_."

Fuji's eyes slowly slid open, peering at Atobe's emotionless face while the young master tended to Ryoma. Kevin muttered something that sounded like 'spoiling him again', making Fuji's eyes narrow in suspicion. Beside him, the Seigaku captain was frozen with uncertainty and incomprehension. Had they done something wrong?

Across the table, Sanada and Yukimura watched the proceedings silently, feeling for Tezuka and Fuji. It was hard enough to maintain a relationship with another person and juggle all other responsibilities with it, and having a third person into the relationship didn't make things any easier. The Rikkaidai captain knew as much, and Sanada as well. They had Kirihara to please and spoil, after all.

Chef Andrew walked into the room, expertly balancing a silver tray which he uncovered in front of Atobe and Ryoma. With Atobe's nod of approval, the burly chef placed two bowls of bouillabaisse with prawn before Ryoma and Atobe, complete with croutons. Many eyebrows went up around the table.

Kevin sighed. "Chef, I'd like one too, if you don't mind," he muttered silently, but loud enough to be heard. He pushed his plate of tonkatsu and rice—heavy breakfast supposedly works best for hyperactive players like them—away from him, and the chef retrieved them.

"I'll be right back with the bouillabaisse, Kevin-bocchama," bowed the chef.

"Kevin, it's fine, you don't have to eat bouillabaisse with me," Ryoma tried in vain to dissuade the Caucasian blonde.

"But I want to," retorted Kevin stubbornly, sticking his nose into the air, his facial expression of finality declaring the end of the argument before it even began.

"I thought ochibi-chan didn't like Western breakfast," Eiji pouted in wonder.

"I like the change once in a while," muttered Ryoma.

_Once in a while, my arse, seishounen… _Nanjiroh snorted from the other side of the table._ You eat chowder or soup whenever you're depressed, as per your and Keigo's tradition and as adapted by Kevin as well. Don't think I don't know it. Lying to me won't work. I know you too well. _

Said coach sniffed. "High school drama," he chortled, before returning to his own food and heartily eating. There was no sense in starving himself over his boy's love problems. _Let's just hope you make it out of this one whole, Ryoma. The last one almost destroyed you if it wasn't for Keigo._

The table was about to resume eating, but was again halted by another peculiar behavior from an obviously depressed Ryoma who was avoiding Fuji and Tezuka—just about everyone could see it already—and Atobe.

"Here, Ryoma," Atobe said, spooning and picking out the prawn from his soup and dumping it into Ryoma's bowl. Ryoma merely grunted in reply, continuing stirring his soup around lifelessly. Occasionally he nibbled on the prawns—and he now had an obscene amount of prawns in his soup—but he never really appeared to eat the food.

But of course, it didn't go unnoticed.

"Ryoma, eat your food," scolded Atobe tersely. "You need your strength. Eat the rest."

Ryoma halted his stirring, pouting up at Atobe adorably. Fuji twitched in his seat, while Tezuka flinched. After seeing that the young master was immovably rooted, Ryoma sullenly looked back down to his food, pouting and muttering, "Es macht nichts…"

_It doesn't matter._

Atobe gritted his teeth, while Tezuka looked up in surprise. _Why did he utter that in German? And what does he mean, 'it doesn't matter'?_

"Ryoma, _bitte_," Atobe snapped silently with a clenched jaw.

After a few seconds of silence, Ryoma ducked his head apologetically. "Es tut mir lied…"

_I'm sorry_.

The young man continued poking his prawns and stirring his soup lifelessly, but took more bites and fed constantly.

All the while, the table continued watching the proceedings without saying anything, including a confused Kevin.

* * *

Kevin moved swiftly through the manor, eyeing the cloudy skies. There was a huge storm coming according to the forecasts, and it was fitting that they had today off so the storm wouldn't interfere with practice sessions. They were only left to hope that the storm doesn't disturb the Regionals, which was less than a week away.

Kevin passed the Cross Room and entered the Bay Wing, making a beeline for the biggest, grandest, middle door made of heavy furnished oak, lifting the knocker and rapping sharply. He didn't need to go to Ryoma's room to know that he wasn't in it. He knew his best friend and he knew that Ryoma would be with Atobe.

After all, Ryoma only had three reliable shock absorbers; him, Atobe, or Nanjiroh. Ryoma only went to Nanjiroh when it was a lose-lose situation, the worst imaginable circumstance ever, or when all other friends were untrustworthy regarding the problem. Atobe was more or less on his own level, mused Kevin as he waited for the door to open. They were both reliable friends who managed to gain Ryoma's trust, though Atobe was more neutral and impartial on judgment and didn't act on his own feelings. Since the rich young bachelor had no romantic interest in Ryoma, as he himself had declared and made clear.

Kevin snorted. He knew that he was far from impartial. When Ryoma needed someone to side with him even if the reasoning was completely twisted and irrational, the young teen ran to him. When Ryoma needed someone to listen to him and to help solve his problems without being partial, he went to Atobe. When he needed advice, Nanjiroh was the best option. The former pro, no matter how much unreliable he looked, was a good father and role model (except for the porn, of course).

Still, Kevin prided himself for being Ryoma's closest friend and the one who was easy to run to for the teen. He was closer to Ryoma's age group, he had more things in common, he had fewer responsibilities than Atobe, and he didn't laugh or joke on Ryoma's problems much like Nanjiroh was prone to doing. He was still the best friend, and he still had a right.

The door was pulled open from the inside by Atobe, who had a perfectly arranged emotionless mask on his face. He was like this whenever Ryoma ran to him and wanted secrets kept. Atobe may be a very flashy, gallant person, but he was a very good secret keeper.

"Ah, Kevin," nodded Atobe, stepping aside to let the smaller blonde teen pass. Kevin quickly strode into the room and headed straight towards the huge bed standing noticeably in the huge room, where Ryoma was predictably holed up and snuggled in.

"Ryoma," called Kevin lightly, keeping his voice down. Kevin shed his indoor slippers on the carpeted floor beside the bed and crawled up to the lump in the center of the bed. He touched what he presumed was Ryoma's shoulder lightly. "It's me."

"Kevin," came a muffled voice from under the thick, comfortable comforters. Ryoma emerged from the bundles a few seconds later, with rebellious streaks of tears lining his cheeks. It seemed Ryoma was quite hurt this time around. Of course, not as hurt as the long-buried and forgotten issue of Ryoma's family, but still hurt.

"The big baby," chuckled Kevin, gathering Ryoma into a big hug. He rocked Ryoma back and forth, and soon enough, the young teen was asleep again. "He's been like this since last night?" Kevin asked Atobe silently as he leaned against the headboard with Ryoma snoozing on his chest.

Atobe nodded as he sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing Ryoma's tired figure. "He was really upset about Fuji's revelation last night."

Kevin heaved a sigh. "**_I knew it_**," he muttered in English, knowing perfectly well that Atobe understood him completely. "**_But I didn't expect him to be _this_ hurt._**"

"Well apparently he thinks he's being treated as a sex toy," snorted Atobe. "One stupidity Fuji and Tezuka didn't consider is that they acted on emotions—on instinct—and didn't think of consequences if they had sex with Ryoma without being locked into an actual relationship. Of _course_ the boy would feel used. There are _two_ of them, for goodness' sake, and they had sex with Ryoma consecutively–within the same week, no less. And they had the _gall_ to seduce the Ryoma without letting him know that the two of them were already in a relationship."

"Complicated," muttered Kevin. "'Taku, Fuji promised he—_they _wouldn't hurt Ryoma!"

"I would bargain Ryoma only assumed that Fuji and Tezuka were good friends and that the three of them were starting together," Atobe murmured, his long digits massaging the migraine that doesn't seem to want to leave him alone.

"He's not gonna break, is he?"

Atobe sneered. "Kevin, _last time was worse_. Or don't you remember? Nan-ji-chan told you all about it, did he not?"

"Of course," Kevin snottily sniffed. "I was just wondering if he's gonna be okay in your care."

"Nothing I can't handle," Atobe waved it off. "Last time was worse," he repeated. "_Definitely_ worse. This one, he'll be able to handle, unless something else relatively worse happens. But he'll survive. I'll make sure of it."

"I don't want him surviving, Atobe," Kevin snapped. "I want him _living_ through this. Last time was barely 'living', you know."

The statement hung in the air.

Atobe and Kevin remained seated on the bed, one staring at the black-haired boy and another cradling. They both hoped for the best, not knowing that there was worse to come.

* * *

Toushi sighed, yanking the cooler open and plucking out a Budweiser can in the array of different drinks. He knew that drinking night was over, but he couldn't help it. It was just about the only way he could take his mind off depressing thoughts regarding a certain blonde who remained painfully ignorant of his affections. Kevin was just too enamored with Ryoma to even notice.

He pulled the top tab open, taking a long drag and smacking his wet lips. He was so going to have a huge hang over the next day.

He walked out of the currently empty snack bar—everyone was either in the common rooms or in their respective rooms, napping away the hang overs—and rounded the corner towards the roofed patio in the back of the house. He had always liked thunderstorms, and this one was a particularly fierce one. It would be awesome to watch the angry waves clash with the wind.

He was about to step around the corner when he heard voices. Familiar voices.

"Saa, Kevin, it's a simple question with a simple answer," came a gentle but dangerously icy voice, recognizably Fuji. There was a crackle in his words that whispered of impending pain if not answered.

"No, it's not, Fuji," snapped another voice, this one even more familiar to Toushi. "I'm his best friend, I'm not about to rat out his secrets to people."

Toushi's eyes narrowed as he leaned in further.

"Don't force me, Kevin," came a low, frosty whisper from Fuji.

"No, Fuji," Kevin resisted bravely and quite remarkably for someone who had considerably less immunity against Fuji. "If you want to know, find some other way. I won't betray him. I won't hurt him. Don't you think he's already hurt enough?"

Toushi inwardly shouted in victory. That hit home base. There was a heavy sigh.

"You know, if you'd just tell me, we'll fix his hurt," Fuji muttered.

"But then he'll be hurt again because his best friend betrayed him," Kevin reasoned. "And when I tell him it's because you forced me to tell you, then you'll just hurt him again. He can only be hurt so many times, you know, before he breaks. His trust is easy to lose. You can still fix it; it's not yet too bad. But hurry."

There was silence, disrupted only by the ruffle of clothes, and Toushi assumed there was some sort of action behind the wall.

Toushi gasped silently and ducked as the footsteps came towards him. Apparently, Fuji wanted some alone time to think, and was headed back towards the common room where the stairs to the second floor was. He hid behind one of the huge draperies, careful to flatten himself against the wall and not make any noise.

He waited for a full minute before emerging from behind the tapestry, and moved quickly across the hall, exiting into the back patio.

"Kev?"

A startled Kevin whirled around in surprise, before breathing a breath of relief. "Toushi. Don't do that, please. I thought it was another person who wanted to put me under inquisition."

Toushi snorted. "If you don't want to tell me, I'm fine. If you want to or need to, I'm here," shrugged Toushi, looking towards the sea, where the high, rolling waves were pushing the water up to where the steps towards the mansion's beachside garden started. He completely missed Kevin's look of appreciation. "So, how is he?"

Kevin sighed. "Horrible, in terms, but we've known worse."

"Really now," Toushi said, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm-hmm, but I don't think I'm the right person to tell you, Toushi. No offence," muttered Kevin.

Toushi grinned and waved it off. "I said when you want to, you can. If you don't, then don't," he shrugged, taking another drag of beer. Inside, he was disappointed that Kevin didn't want to tell him, but he knew that he was content listening to the blonde teen. He sighed. "The waves are pretty high."

"Mm…"

* * *

Fuji frowned, seething inside his room as he paced back and forth. Tezuka was as restless as he was, but was not as expressive as he was being. The captain was sitting by his window, tending to the four little cacti—all in different stages of growth—as they were sprinkled with some of the rainwater carried by the wind.

"What did we do wrong, Tezuka?" Fuji asked, pausing only for a while before pacing again.

"I honestly don't know," muttered Tezuka. "I don't even recall saying anything that might offend him or hurt him in any way."

"Kevin refused to tell me anything either," groaned Fuji, before throwing his lithe, feminine-like form on the soft, squishy, well-slept in bed. "What are we to do with you, Ryoma-chan?" he muttered in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Tezuka sighed by the windowsill, closing his book gently as the water droplets started spattering on the pages. He stood up and carefully slid the window close, avoiding the flowers of two of the cacti.

"I'll try talking to Atobe, but I'm not sure if he'll budge," Tezuka muttered. "Apart from Kevin, he's really the only one who knows what in the world is going on."

Fuji hummed in approval, his eyes hid behind his lids once again. But even though the devious blue eyes were hidden, Tezuka knew Fuji was planning something, and when Fuji was planning something, that something turns out a tad bit too drastic.

"And Fuji, whatever you're planning, please stall it until I manage to talk to Atobe, ne?"

Silence.

"Whatever do you mean, Tezuka?" Fuji innocently smiled from the bed, his trademark Cheshire smile resurfacing. Tezuka also knew that when Fuji smiled under incredible stress, it meant that the sadistic side was breaking through the barrier that was constructed to help protect those people who was close to Fuji.

"_Fuji_."

Silence.

Fuji simply smiled at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he innocently replied, his facial expression unwavering. Inwardly, Tezuka pleaded whatever god looking down on them to just make Atobe fess up instead of suffer under Fuji's brutal 'persuasion' techniques. "I'm a bit parched. I'll get us some snacks downstairs. What do you want, Kuni-bu?"

Tezuka sighed. _There goes the nickname_. Fuji was really far too gone into his sadistic glee to even listen to him any longer.

"Turkey sandwich, if that's okay. And raspberry juice."

"Coming up."

Fuji smilingly stood up and walked towards the door, exiting the room and closing the door behind him with a silent snap. As soon as he was out, a diabolical smirk crept up across his face.

_Atobe, if I were you, I'd already tell. You seriously don't want to experience the pain I'm about to deal you. I'll go slowly for you; gradually increasing the pain. Simple at first, seemingly insignificant. But I bid you warnings, Atobe. Do _not_ anger me._

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

This chapter is fairly short. Why? Because Kia-chan will now be updating weekly, so there's no reason for me to update insanely long chapters to keep you satisfied until the next update.

**Notice:** Only half of this is beta-read. I finished this during the period of time when Tria-chan is not around, and I have no choice but to upload early to maintain schedule. Rest assured, I will replace chapters once this is beta-read, and **if there are major editions, I will notify by mail **(for those who have joined my mailing list) **and by posting a note on the newly revised chapter.**

**_Next Chapter:_** _The Revealed Past_

_"Ryoma-chaaaaaan!" _

_  
"**What**?"_

_"Teach me."_

_"Yadda."_

"Teach MEEEEEEEEE!!!"

_"Yadda, monkey king."_

_"I'm NOT a monkey!"_

_"No you're not. You're a monkey **king**."_

_"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Ryoma-chan is mean to me!"_

_"Che."_

_"Che-tte nani?" _

_"Urusai."_

"You're mean!"

_"I'm not!"_

_"Are too!"_

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

_"Am not!"_

_"I bet you're not potty trained."_

_"Yes I AM __TOO__!"_

_"Not."_

_"ONII-CHAN, THERE'S A MONKEY BEING MEAN TO ME! ONII-CHAN!"_

_"Chibisuke! What is it? Oh, there's a monkey alright. Shoo, monkey, leave my chibisuke alone."_

_"Ow! Don't kick me! And Ore-sama is NOT a monkey!"_

_"WOW THE MONKEY CAN SPEAK! Ne, chibisuke, how about we sell this monkey and make money, huh?"_

"Good idea! OYAJI, WE FOUND A SPEAKING MONKEY!"

* * *

**The most awaited chapter: the revelation of Atobe and Ryoma's past!**

There are several scenes there that include Ryoga, but I wouldn't treat this as his entrance into the fic. The entrance would be, uhm… chapter… 21. Quite a way to go.

Well, REVIEW!

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication: 02.06.07  
First Revision: 02.09.07 _


	17. Step Seventeen: The Revealed Past

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Wow. I'm so into writing these days that I actually bother spending free time at school writing! Oh well. It's good for me, and it takes my mind off the stress of memorization and anatomy. Comfort hobby. And don't you guys complain, it means more chapters and faster updates for you.

The weekly updates are receiving a warm welcome, and I'm pleased to see that. It seems a lot of you are really eager for this, huh. Well, Kia-chan will try her best to come up to the expectations while enjoying herself.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies. Furthermore, I would like to rightfully disclaim Shakespeare's phrases later on in one part of this story.

**Notice:** I will put up "Notes" that say if the chapter is beta-read or not. Tria-chan and Kia-chan's schedules don't always match, and there are some instances—though rare—when we are unable to contact each other, like the past few days due to some complications on Tria-chan's side, and some academic stress on Kia-chan's side as well. However, since we are almost always in contact—we meet through chat everyday and stay until the wee hours of the morning either doing nothing or pimping each other with Sung Si-Kyung, Kangta, and uke!Ryoma—rest assured we will be able to somehow finish chapters every week. **When the chapter has been beta-read by Tria-chan, I will replace it, and I will put up a note saying I did so, as well as email you people **(for those who have joined my mailing list).

**From Aventria:** (le gasp) We're on schedule. All major revisions are done (yeah, it's quite amazing actually). Sorry for the Shakespeare in advance everyone. It _was_ fitting for the scene nevertheless and we had to talk (read: whine and bribe) ourselves off to compromise in the wee hours of the morning for it (this morning particularly). (Kia-chan grumble about being asked (read: tortured) into writing a cheesy Shakespeare.) We updated the First Revision and First Publication on the same day (in less than an hour's span in between, as a matter of fact), so you may not notice it. Oh well. We're on time for a change.

This is a flashback chapter, mostly. Not all of it, but majority is. Please take note of that.

* * *

**Step Seventeen: The Revealed Past**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Nanjiroh chortled as he watched the chaos reign inside the common room that evening. As promised, the whole day was spent with sleeping extremely hung over tennis players, and no practice. The coach's eyes flitted back towards the rumbling sky in the distance, the storm inching closer and closer every minute.

_Not that we'll get much of a practice with this messed up weather._

He shrugged. It didn't matter much; the boys were already far too good for their own level that the Regionals would be a piece of cake. He already arranged the line-up for the matches—for Seigaku only, of course—and Hyotei-sensei (whoever that eccentric guy was, Saki? Taki? Takaku?) was planning on borrowing Atobe and Oshitari for a while to plan _their_ line-ups. Yukimura, Sanada, and Renji were all brainstorming and rearranging their line-ups right that moment.

He looked out the window he was sitting beside, the windowsill cold to his touch.

_Come to think of it, the last time I saw this sort of bad weather was during our stay in Florida while Ryoma was growing up. I think we spent the rest of the years traveling around the world that we never got to see an extreme tropical storm like this any more than that day. And that day was… yeah, _that_ day… _

Nanjiroh sighed and shook his head, ridding his mind of unpleasant thoughts. He needn't dwell on them; they were in the past already. It was enough that he had Ryoma with him, and that he was safe. That in itself alone was enough. His _son_ was here, and he wasn't dead.

He turned his attention back towards where Eiji, Momoshiro, Asuka, Kamio, Jiroh, Gakuto, and some of the others were lounging lazily around, playing a game of strip poker. Momoshiro seemed to be losing big time, since he was down to his pants and thin inner shirt already—sweater off—when the game had just started less than fifteen minutes ago. Eiji and Gakuto were making obscene amounts of noises, while Jiroh and Kamio were egging Momoshiro on, who was being pressured. Shinichi was asleep on one couch, and was being used as a pillow by Asuka.

These games lessened the tension between the four teams inside the manor, and it was all good. He sure as hell didn't want them on each other's throats, and if it meant having them strip and drink alcohol and have intense hang over syndromes, then so be it. Aspirin was invented for that.

His glance flitted up the stairs and towards the darkened hallway of the Bay Wing, where Ryoma and Atobe were currently lounging in. Fuji and Tezuka were gone inside the tensai's quarters, doing God knows what. Kevin and Toushi were still out in the back patio, having a chat with some beer and sandwiches.

_Seishounen… what have you gotten yourself into this time around? Do we have to pick you up piece by piece and glue you together again afterwards?_

Nanjiroh sighed, turning his attention away from the Bay Wing hallway and refocusing himself towards the rowdy group of tennis players inside the common room. It was amusing to watch how the dynamics of the quasi-family they had formed inside the manor worked itself, and at times, destroy itself as well.

His eyes trailed towards where Kaidoh was holing himself up against a cushion puff, glaring deadly daggers at—Nanjiroh raised an eyebrow—his boyfriend, Inui. Inui, on the other hand, was too busy comparing notes with an equally interested Renji. Apparently, the data people were in paradise—every single day was a field day for them. Then there was Kamio, who was staring at Momoshiro intently, then switching his gaze towards Shinji, who was trying not to sit too close to Kamio, and failing miserably. Apparently, Kamio was having difficulty choosing. But Momoshiro was as equally oblivious as Inui was, being too focused on Kaidoh—and on the poker game he was currently cheating at—to notice.

Nanjiroh snorted. _Ara… Inui-kun, you'd better console Kaidoh before it's too late, or else Momo-chan will move in!_ The coach snickered, watching the everyday 24-hour yaoi soap opera they called a tennis training camp. He watched Momoshiro sink into the cushion beside Kaidoh tiredly, having been ousted from the game already for cheating.

_Now it gets interesting._

* * *

Kaidoh was furious.

He wanted to hurl things, he wanted to hurt people, he wanted so badly to simply turn his eyes away, he wanted to bawl his eyes out until the aggression in his system subsided. It was like this everyday. And if it went on being like this, he doubted the aggression would ever die down. Inui was being a pain in the bloody arse after all.

His eyes remained transfixed on the infamous "data pair", the glare on his face permanently glued on.

It's been like this ever since the camp had started. It's been _weeks, _and he was getting tired of waiting for Inui. Why was it that he always had to make the first move? Why couldn't Inui just open his bloody eyes and look closely?

Kaidoh let out a low, frustrated, hostile hiss.

"Oi, mamushi, daijoubu kai?" a voice from beside him came. Kaidoh recognized the nickname and the voice immediately, as well as the emotion conveyed in the voice. He could almost see Momoshiro's raised eyebrows in his mind's eye.

"Damare," Kaidoh hissed aggressively. He wasn't in the mood to banter with Momoshiro right now.

Since Kaidoh was still facing away from Momoshiro, he didn't see Momoshiro's similar frustrated expression. Momoshiro sighed inwardly. Inui and Renji were both immersed in some sort of project concerning the integration of their juices into some other edible form other than juice. He cringed inwardly; they didn't need more of those juices. They've had enough to last them a lifetime or two.

Momoshiro turned his eyes back and forth between Kaidoh and Inui, sensing the waves of hostility Kaidoh was emitting at that very moment. He wanted to console his friend, but frankly speaking, he didn't know how to do it. He wasn't an expert with those kinds of things, really.

But he still gave it a brave try.

"Ne, Kaidoh, are you _sure_ you're fine? Because if you're tired already, go to bed. I don't want you weighing me down in the Regionals," prodded Momoshiro.

Bad move.

Kaidoh turned abruptly towards Momoshiro and hissed loudly. "I said _shut up_, didn't I?" growled Kaidoh menacingly, making Momoshiro subconsciously inch away from him. "If you can't shut up, then _get your ass outta here_!"

Momoshiro nodded and moved quickly two seats from Kaidoh, giving him and the glowering snake at least two feet of distance in between. Eiji patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"I feel for you, Momo," Eiji solemnly said as he laid a full house down on the table before him. Eiji faintly took a glance at Kaidoh, who was now all alone beside the fireplace, having scared everyone else beside him with the dark, murderous aura he was emitting and the hostile behavior he was currently displaying. When Eiji pulled his eyes back onto the table, he was just in time to see Yukimura, their newest contender replacing Momoshiro, lay down his cards. Eiji's eyes bulged. "NANI?!"

Yukimura smiled, a perfect imitation of Fuji. "Royal straight flush."

Eiji howled. "USO! YOU'RE A DEMON! WORSE THAN FUJI! USO!"

"I told you so, didn't I?" Kirihara blandly stated, picking on his newly-polished nails.

* * *

Nanjiroh bemusedly walked through the spacious Cross Room, whistling giddily as he made his way. The scene earlier with Kaidoh blowing off Momoshiro and scaring off all the others inside the common room was simply hilarious. These boys were as clueless as hell.

He chortled, mentally imagining all the drama that was going on inside the house.

_'Taku, and it all had to happen before the Regionals. This will make it interesting,_ he thought inwardly, smirking. Then he stopped short at that thought. _Screw that, I won't stand for it if their performance dwindles because of this. And—shit—Ryoma! If he doesn't recover before the Regionals…_

Happy mood ruined, Nanjiroh groaned, now dragging his feet across the beige-carpeted floor. Ryoma was very volatile, and the boy's mood was easily swayed when it came to matters like these. Having a distracted Ryoma on court was as bad as having Horio with arms and feet bound playing for championship.

But he couldn't risk interfering. Interfering meant he's flaunting his lack of trust on Ryoma, and will only serve to worsen the situation at hand. No, he couldn't risk interfering. He had to let Ryoma handle this on his own. Last time, Keigo was there. This time, Kevin and Keigo are both here. He wasn't really needed. aww poor nan-chan. He would only step in at the very worse where neither Keigo nor Kevin can reach him anymore. At that point, he would act. But not now.

He sighed, rubbing the side of his head. _'Taku, I forgot just how troublesome it was to be a teenager with raging hormones and girl problems… oops, it's _boy _problems for Ryoma._

He looked up as a door opened ahead of him, and raised an eyebrow when he saw Fuji closing his room's door with a smile directed at someone inside (most probably Tezuka). As soon as the door closed, however, Fuji's innocent mask slipped off, and for the first time in the short month Nanjiroh's known Fuji Syuusuke, he got to see the sadistic, evil side of Fuji.

Nanjiroh was rooted to his spot, his body too shocked to move. He knew that Fuji could be cunning when he wanted to, and he could see that Fuji demanded the same amount of respect from the subordinates as much as Tezuka, Yukimura, Keigo, Tachibana, and Sanada did individually. He also knew that there was a hidden slosh of fear within that respect he demanded, but he deemed it was because of Fuji's frighteningly ever-evolving potential and his seemingly unstoppable intense tennis (when properly provoked).

Never in his dreams, though, had he imagined that he would be seeing this kind of expression on the young man's face. There was certainly more to this teen player than Nanjiroh gave him credit for.

There was a diabolically evil grin spreading on Fuji's face, and his startling blue eyes were open, glinting against the fading light of the sunset. It was as if the young man was planning something. It seemed that the young man hadn't seen him in the shadows yet. He had to admit, Fuji's façade was good. Good enough to fool him, even.

Then and there, Nanjiroh felt that there would be hell descending on them… or more specifically, on Keigo.

His mind sped back to those past remarks Eiji and Momoshiro often uttered. _"Fuji, nya, you're evil!" "Oni!" "Fuji-senpai, please don't go sadistic mode on us!" "I swear you and Yukimura-san are twins!!"_

He re-froze. _Twins?_ He returned to Eiji's earlier remark in the common room. _"Uso! Worse than Fuji! Uso!"_

He sucked in a silent breath. So Yukimura was even _worse_ than Fuji? _Honestly, what's with these children? One surprise after another! And what the hell happened to them to make them morph mentally into sadists?_

"Ara? Nanjiroh-sensei?" came a gentle voice.

Nanjiroh snapped out of his reverie. "Are? Gomen, gomen, I was… spacing off…"

Once Nanjiroh got a good look at Fuji, he realized that the mask was back into place securely. Fuji smiled amicably. "I was just about to go downstairs to get some snacks. What might you be doing up here, sensei?"

Nanjiroh waved off the remark. "Nandemonai, nandemonai. Just going to check up on the ones who haven't shown up downstairs yet. We don't want to walk into their rooms to find them cold and lifeless, do we?" he chortled dryly.

He was a tad bit apprehensive of Fuji now, he had to admit, but he was not frightened, neither for himself, nor for Ryoma. He knew that to trigger Fuji's split personality—he had a feeling it was that—it had to be something extreme. Fuji was under the impression that Keigo had taken away Ryoma from him, and as such, he was triggered. It only meant that Ryoma has a huge impact on him. He must really care, Nanjiroh could see that much.

But still, that was no reason to be sure of his _own_ safety within Fuji's range. Ryoma was safe, Tezuka was safe, but honestly speaking, apart from those, no one else was.

Fuji smiled back at him, completely oblivious of his thoughts. "Saa, would you mind if I accompany you, sensei? I have to admit, I _am_ quite a bit bored today."

"Sure," shrugged Nanjiroh, sauntering forward.

There was a while of silence, before Fuji spoke up again.

"Sensei, if you don't mind me asking, have you seen Ryoma yet?" he asked silently, a sincere hint of worry seeping into Fuji's voice.

_Aha. So I was right; he asked about seishounen first!_

"Yes, yes, I went up earlier to Keigo's quarters. I think he's getting a cold," Nanjiroh sighed. "No matter, he'll live."

"Oh," nodded Fuji. "I was a bit worried. He seems to be mad at me and Tezuka, though why, I can't figure out."

Nanjiroh grunted in reply, not wanting to give off anything. He wanted to let things course their way without him interfering. He was there when people asked for advice, sure, but he didn't _want_ to be the problem-solver.

"I was wondering… do you know why he's mad at us, sensei?" Fuji asked silently.

Nanjiroh paused. It was a safe question. He could still answer.

"Yes," Nanjiroh nodded.

Fuji pursed his lips. "Ja, he really _is_ mad," muttered Fuji worriedly. "Can you please tell me why he's mad? Please?"

Nanjiroh bit his cheek, before shaking his head no.

Fuji's eyes burned in the settling darkness. "No?"

"No."

"Nothing I can do can make you change your mind?"

Nanjiroh shook his head again.

"Even if I offered you porn magazines, special editions? One year?"

Nanjiroh screamed inside. "No," he sighed. _Damn you, Ryoma. And damn me for being such a good father._

"Not ev—"

"Oji-chan!" a voice called from the end of the hallway where the Cross Room was bathed in a yellow glow from downstairs. Kevin's blonde hair gleamed against the dark gloom. He fumbled for the light switch in the room, before bounding over to Nanjiroh. "Oji-chan, oba-san is _phoning_!"

Behind Kevin, Toushi held the wireless phone in his hand looking grumpy, about what, Nanjiroh didn't even want to know. Right now, he was just grateful to be out of Fuji's clutches. Kevin must have been listening. Kevin never used the term 'phoning'. Smart kid.

"Fuji-chan, you'll have to excuse me," sighed Nanjiroh, grinning with abandon as if he was unaffected. "You know my wife, she can get… _stingy_ once in a while."

Fuji nodded, smiling pleasantly. "Arigatou, sensei."

"Iie, iie," waved Nanjiroh, swaggering over to where Kevin and Toushi were waiting. He retrieved the phone from a scowling Toushi, pretending that there was someone on the other side of the line. "Moshi moshi, Rinko-chan?"

Their voices faded away as the three of them walked towards the opposite Bay Wing, while Fuji was left outside in the halls of the West Wing, glaring into the darkness.

_That's it. That's the last straw. Atobe, you're getting what you've had coming since the day you were born._

* * *

As soon as Nanjiroh, Toushi, and Kevin were all securely inside Atobe's chambers, the three of them heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"And what does ore-sama owe the pleasure of having you visit to?" Atobe's silky voice floated from the huge triple-king bed draped in soft silk in the center of the room. He was sitting beside the bed on a huge, very comfortable-looking royal red armchair with a book in hand and a soft reading light standing on the bedside table casting light on him. There was a noticeable lump on the bed near Atobe's side.

"Fuji's scary," Nanjiroh said flatly. Toushi snorted at him—the boy was immune to the fact that Nanjiroh was his camp coach and as such treated him like Kevin did—while Kevin traipsed over to the bed and climbed in without even seeking permission from Atobe.

"Ryoma," cooed Kevin, throwing his arm around the lump. He knew instinctively that the younger teen was awake.

"Kevin," whined Ryoma. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Trying to sleep, or sulking?" Kevin skeptically prodded, before pulling the covers off the lump and revealing a curled up Ryoma in a fetal position, clutching an old plush that oddly looked like Karupin. Kevin noted the plush, but said nothing about it. "Since you won't get up and laugh with the rest of us downstairs, I'll just make you laugh myself!"

Kevin dove down, fingers retracted, on an unsuspecting Ryoma, who practically shrieked as the fingers connected with the sides of his waist and started wiggling and tickling. Atobe chuckled bemusedly, adjusting the reading glasses perched on his nose as he pulled his book further from the bed for the fear of getting it knocked over. It was an antique, after all.

For a few more minutes, shrieks of laughter from Ryoma and triumphant roars from Kevin erupted in the room as the two tumbled over each other on the bed. They rolled over and over, laughing and giggling, not noticing a put-out Toushi slipping out of the room inconspicuously. Atobe, however, noticed this. He sighed.

_And Kevin says he wants no one to experience what he's experiencing with Ryoma, while unknowingly pushing the same difficulties on Toushi whom he ignores… can this become any more complicated?_

Nanjiroh chuckled and drew a chair towards the bed beside Atobe, folding one leg beneath him and sinking down comfortably.

"Fuji tried bribing me," Nanjiroh muttered, sighing. His voice was inaudible under the roars of laughter from the two younger ones. "Of course, I didn't give in, but I never had any idea that Fuji was _that_ intense."

Atobe snorted. "Well, here's your chance to get to know him up-close and personal."

Nanjiroh blanched, grimacing in remembrance of that diabolical grin. "No thanks."

* * *

Nanjiroh sighed, happy for once to be in the comfort and safety of his own chambers, where no loud, rowdy party or an insanely sadistic and possible psychologically unstable genius could get to him. He made sure to lock the door before creeping in the darkness towards the divan that sat beside a windowsill.

Unlike his son, Nanjiroh rather _liked_ watching thunderstorms (had the issue not been so traumatizing and sensitive to Ryoma, he would've exploited it as a chance to bribe or tease his son long ago) and had _no_ idea whatsoever where that phobia of his came from—though he had an inkling that it might have been the… _eventful_ escapades that had taken place many years ago.

He sighed.

_Even I still regret it these days. I should've been able to foresee it. Had I not been careless and clueless, Ryoma would not have been traumatized by an emotional and psychological wound at such an early age. He would not have been so closed off from the world like he is today. But had that not happened, he wouldn't have learned anything either. And neither would have I. _

He sighed again.

_It was a mistake, that's for sure, but a necessary mistake nonetheless. For _all_ of us involved._

Nanjiroh felt a familiar nostalgic pull and it brought his mind back to Keigo and Ryoma's first meeting. When he was thinking about this particular matter, he was always brought back to the beginning of everything.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Ryoma sulkily pouted and sank into a sitting position under one of the hundreds of orange trees scattered around the sprawling Echizen residence in Florida. He liked their new home, and he liked his new playground, as well as the new tennis courts (even if he still couldn't play decently for his life, since the racket was still far too heavy for his young, five-year-old arms. _

_But he didn't like his new brother. _

_"I hate him." _

_Ryoma's pout elongated as he grumbled and picked up a stray tennis ball—there were _lots_ around the orchard surrounding the courts—and chucking it at a tree opposite him. The ball bounced sharply back towards him and hit his forehead with a light thump, knocking his backwards white cap off. _

_"Ouch!" _

_He rubbed his forehead, the hopelessly disarrayed mop of emerald-tinged black hair standing up on end. He whined. _

_"Why won't he play with me?" he groaned, flailing his arms and feet wildly about in childish frustration. "He said I'm not good enough to play, but he wont' teach me! And he said it wasn't fun! And yesterday, he stole my orange and went off swimming without me!" _

_Ryoma's pout, if possible, morphed into something more intense. It was now a full-force lost-and-wanting-to-be-spoiled puppy expression. Had there been someone there seeing him, they would've bent to the young child's caprices. Even Nanjiroh couldn't deny his son of anything—not that he ever did, seeing how much he spoiled both sons—when he was like this. _

_But Ryoma was a child. And he didn't really dislike his brother. _

_It was just a fleeting sulking childish moment. _

_As the childish frustration slowly passed, Ryoma's face morphed into a lonely frown. _

_Ever since childhood, he was shunned away from most of the other children, mainly because of his Japanese heritage—discrimination was still pretty rampant in some respects—and because of his father's fame. Not that Nanjiroh _wanted_ the fame, no. It was just like that. _

_He had thought that once he had a brother, he would at least have someone to play with all the time. _

_But he realized it wasn't like that. _

_And he really _did _like his brother. _

_Ryoga liked teasing him, true, but he was very nice, and sometimes, he taught him basic tennis too (not that he needed it, since it was already practically drilled into his head). And Ryoga slept with him at night when Nanjiroh couldn't, and he took care of him, though he didn't play with him all the time. _

_Like now. _

_Ryoga was gone somewhere, having disappeared earlier from the house. His mom and dad weren't worried at the least bit; Ryoga had grown someplace called an 'orphanage' (Dad spelled it for him) and he had learned how to take care of himself from there. _

_Ryoma wished at first that he could have just grown like Ryoga had in the 'orphanage', but after Ryoga told him it wasn't nice and the food was awful, he immediately withdrew the wish. He liked his food, thanks. _

_He sighed and rubbed his arm where the pale, characteristically Japanese skin had been exposed a patch of sunlight. It prickled, not painfully, but uncomfortably. He made a move to stand, only to be knocked over when someone tumbled over him roughly from the bushes behind him. _

_"Oof!" Ryoma tumbled forward for a few moments, before regaining his senses and pushing himself from the cool grass. "Wha…?" _

_A groan came from beside him. _

_"…" _

_It was a young boy, a little older than him, who had short black hair ruffled out of its ruined style, and a small mole under his right eye, which served to enhance his features into the perfect young vain master he was. _

_But of course, Ryoma did not know that. _

_"Ehm…" Ryoma muttered, staring at the young boy, who was still rubbing his forehead (which collided with the ground quite painfully). "…why are you here?" _

_For the first time, the other boy seemed to notice him. Said boy stared at him for a moment, almost calculatingly, before adopting an apparently well-used and well-practiced air of arrogance. _

_"Keigo Atobe," he announced proudly, puffing his small chest out. Ryoma raised an eyebrow, wearing the usual indifferent and bratty expression he learned from his father and always wore. "Ore-sama is sure you are very pleased to have my acquaintance." _

_Ryoma balked, doing a doubletake. _Ore-sama…?

_"Well?" Atobe haughtily crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his skin in a very you're-dirt-on-the-ground-under-my-feet impression. "Don't you even know formalities? Hurry up and give your name to ore-sama, so ore-sama won't have to stoop down and make up some silly nickname for you." _

_Ryoma's eyebrow twitched in immediate annoyance. The ire of the older boy before him annoyed him to no end. _

_"Why should I tell you my name, baka?" Ryoma drawled arrogantly in a perfect imitation of Nanjiroh's drawl. This made Atobe's eyebrows raise; the boy was a naturally arrogant brat, and knew Japanese. _

_"Because ore-sama asked for it," Atobe quipped. _

_Ryoma rolled his eyes—an incredibly arrogant motion for a five-year-old—and stood up, dusting the back of his denim jumpers and rearranging his disheveled hat. Without another word, he walked off, not even sparing the other boy a glance. _

_Atobe stared after him in barely masked shock. No one, _no _one, walked out on an Atobe. _

_"Oi! Where are you going?!" he exclaimed, scrambling up in a most undignified way as attempting to rearrange himself while trotting after an indifferent Ryoma. _

_"Home," Ryoma said simply, pointing towards the now-looming big white and red house with several tennis courts in the back gardens surrounded by the orange trees that were the family's mutual favorite fruit, tree, and inspiration._

* * *

_Ryoma's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. _

_"Nee," called a whiny voice beside him. "I wish you'd stop ignoring me!"_

_Ryoma grumbled something that sounded like 'you can keep on wishing' under his breath, continuing with his daily tennis drills his father had assigned him. He hit the balls with the racket in his hand with quite impressive an accuracy for a five-year-old. Nothing too surprising for anyone who knew who the father was, though._

_"Ryoma-chan, Keigo-kun," called Rinko from the backyard's open porch, carrying in hand a tray of refreshments and luscious strawberry-chocolate Lindt cake, Ryoma's personal favorite._

_"__CAKE__!"_

_And apparently, little Atobe's personal favorite as well._

_The two children raced each other viciously towards the porch, Ryoma dropping the racket 'accidentally' on the ground before Keigo. As a result, the older boy tumbled after him as Ryoma reached the porch and grabbed the bigger slice of cake._

_When little Atobe Keigo got there, he pouted, sank into the seat across Ryoma, and started eating his cake in a considerably more dignified manner than Ryoma was eating his. However, he was still royally pissed._

_"Ryoma, that's not nice, you know," Rinko scolded gently, the picture perfect mother. Ryoma simply grumbled his acquiescence, not bothering to throw a single glance at the kid across him._

_The previous day when Atobe had followed him home, Rinko was the one who saw them bantering together, being the little two brats they were naturally. Considering it was Rinko who saw them first, the young mother of two (one real and one adopted) immediately fell in love with "Ryoma's adorable new playmate," swooned, and decided that it was good exposure for her child._

_Nanjiroh, no matter how horrified he was about Atobe's aplomb, couldn't resist his wife (who was essentially a terror when angered). In the Echizen household, the mother almost never spoke. But when she did, her word was law._

_The only ones who were openly refusing Atobe, ironically as it was, were Ryoma and Ryoga, the two children of the house. (Well, technically, Ryoga was already twelve years old, almost thirteen, and that was hardly a child, but still.) Ryoga openly despised the young Atobe heir, and according to Nanjiroh, it was simple sibling jealousy (and was actually proud of Ryoga for being so protective of the little angel Ryoma). Ryoma was openly annoyed with the said new neighbor, and bothered not in hiding it. _

_Apparently, the Atobe family was initially from Phoenix, Arizona, and had big businesses in Japan. However, the business in Phoenix started getting a little shaky and unstable due to the kidnappings of rich people and gang movements, and as such, Atobe's mother opted to transfer houses, taking the young heir with her to safety._

_Rinko bemusedly watched the two children return to their playground (which was really the tennis court with a lower net for Ryoma's practice). It was refreshing to see Ryoma having some friends, even if he was making a positive effort to drive them away. After all, sometimes, hostility bonds as well. Rinko wondered, though, if _Keigo_ (she had taken to calling the child by first name) never played tennis._

_Tennis was her family's passion, and as such, she developed a passion for it herself. She was a well-known lawyer in both California and Florida, where their main residences were, and she was even more popular for fighting for cases involving tennis players. _

_Right now though, Ryoma was the only one hitting balls across the net (she could already see the making of a prodigy), while Keigo watched from one side with a thoughtful frown, as if wondering how Ryoma could make such good shots with a small body._

_"Riiiinko-chan!" called a playful voice from inside the house, noticeably Nanjiroh. The former pro and Ryoga were out for some tennis shopping (just about the only shopping Nanjiroh agreed to make except for porn), and it seemed they just returned._

_"Coming!" called back Rinko, leaving the two children to their devices with a wave._

_As soon as Rinko was out of view, Ryoma acquired a naughtily devious gleam in his eyes, and intentionally missed a shot that went straight for little Keigo's head. _

_"Ow!" the older child exclaimed, hands flying to his now-dirty forehead. "That hurt, you know!"_

_"Which is exactly my point," huffed Ryoma superiorly, smirking. Even as a child, it seemed that Ryoma already had an atittude (most probably adapted from too much a combination of deviousness and naughtiness from Ryoga and Nanjiroh and too less an influence of gentleness from Rinko). Or it could be just the genes. _

_Ryoma was a very bright child. It didn't matter that tennis was his only passion. Either way, he unneeded repetition could par with his brother on discussions about tennis. Nanjiroh often scoffed that Ryoga got his sometimes-stupid side from the mother, who was another lady both their parents refused to talk about. Ryoma, however, had two equally talented parents to draw from, no matter how diverse the two parents were. In fact, that only worked for the better, since Ryoma was bright and intellectually ready from Rinko's mentoring, and also a rising tennis prodigy thanks to Nanjiroh's from-birth coaching._

_And thus explains the extremely arrogant and smart-aleck child with an unspoken kindness not many people had the opportunity to see._

_"You're mean."_

_"I'm not."_

_Ryoma silently went back to his ball-hitting (or more like ball-mutilating, since the boy seemed to be chanelling his stress and annoyance into the balls like Nanjiroh trained him to), while Keigo resumed to grumbling on one side._

_Then Keigo sighed after a while of watching. Ryoma mentally grumbled._

_"Ryoooomaaaa-chan!"_

_Ryoma cringed inwardly. He _hated_ that nickname with a passion. Well, okay, it was fine if it was coming from his mom or his dad or his brother, but _not_ from Keigo._

_"_**_What_**_?" he snapped sharply, hitting a ball with furiously incredible strength for a five-year-old._

_"Teach me."_

_Keigo held out a tennis racket, the spare one._

_"Yadda," Ryoma proclaimed almost immediately, turning his nose up in refusal._

_"Teach MEEEEE!!" screeched the increasingly insistent Kiego. _

_"Yadda, monkey king," sniffed Ryoma, turning away from Keigo further. Inwardly, he smirked. _I like that nickname.

_"I'm NOT a monkey!" Keigo retorted madly._

_"That's right, you're not," snorted Ryoma. "You're a monkey _**king**_."_

_"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" wailed Keigo. "Ryoma is being MEAN to me!!!"_

_"Che," spat Ryoma, as if annoyed with Keigo's whiny behavior. Not that he wasn't whiny, but at least he knew how to keep his composure around other people._

_"Che-tte nani?"_

_"Urusai," spat Ryoma again. He learned the rude term from his brother, who in turn learned it from their father. Rinko had tried to push it out of their system, but failed miserably._

_"You're mean, meanie!"_

_"I'm not!"_

_"Are too!"_

_"Am not!"_

_"Are too!"_

_"Am not!"_

_"Are too!"_

_"Am not!"_

_"I bet you're not potty trained."_

_"Yes, I am!"_

_"Not."_

_"ONII-CHAN! ONII-CHAN, THERE'S A MONKEY BEING MEAN TO ME!" It was Ryoma's turn to screech at the top of his lungs, making several resting birds nearby take flight in alarm. He knew that his elder brother would come out running any second, and Keigo wouldn't stand any chance._

_And come out running he did._

_"Chibisuke!" exclaimed a worried Ryoga, who apparently hadn't heard the rest of Ryoma's shout and only heard the 'onii-chan' part. "What is it?" _

_"There's a monkey," Ryoma stated bluntly and blankly, pointing a finger at Keigo. "It's being mean to me."_

_Ryoga didn't even need to think about what the hell Ryoma was saying. _

_"Oh, there's a monkey alright," snorted Ryoga. "Shoo, monkey, leave _**my**_ chibisuke alone!"_

_With that, Ryoga delivered a sharp little kick on Keigo's side, not meaning to hurt, but only to tease._

_"Ow! Don't kick me!" Keigo whined exaggeratedly, clutching his side. "And ore-sama is NOT a monkey!"_

_Ryoga continued his little game with Ryoma without blinking._

_"WOW! THE MONKEY CAN SPEAK!" yelled Ryoga in mock surprise, making Ryoma snicker and giggle. "Nee, chibisuke, how about we sell this monkey and make money, huh?"_

_Ryoma grinned evilly, making Keigo back away. A similar grin crept on Ryoga's face._

_"Good idea!" grinned Ryoma. "OYAJI, WE FOUND A TALKING MONKEY!!"_

_Inside the house, Nanjiroh could only chuckle with Rinko. It seemed Ryoma had his hands full with an elder brother and a new annoying playmate._

* * *

_Dinner was an infinitely interesting affair for the Echizen household, what with a perverted tennis ex-pro, a cocky headstrong young rising tennis star, and a very young potential tennis genius on the table. _

_But this particular dinner was special._

_They had a special addition to the table: a vain, incredibly self-assured young heir to the Atobe Group of Companies who liked to annoy a peeved Ryoma like hell._

_Nanjiroh snorted as he watched Ryoma and Keigo banter silently, noiselessly, under Rinko's eyes. The woman was approving of the relationship between the two children—though Nanjiroh doubted Rinko saw the relationship was disastrous—and as such did nothing to stop the two kids. He knew that Keigo was a good kid, intellectual and well-trained, but sometimes, the kid was just plain vain. But of course, who was he to resist when the Atobe Main Company was giving him a promotional contract worth a couple of million dollars? _

A little sacrifice on your part for daddy, seishounen_, he thought, snorting into his soup bowl. Not that he meant it badly. _Besides, it could even do you good, no matter how the relationship might seem now.

_Nanjiroh spared the two kids another glance, only to find Ryoma stealing prawn from Keigo's bouillabaisse. He snorted. _Well, then again, maybe not.

_During the span of the previous four months since they transferred to Florida, Ryoma began this strange affinity for prawn and soup. As such, their appetizer round in dinner would always be some kind of soup with prawn in it, since the boy often threw tantrums when not given prawn. _

_Often, Ryoma stole prawn from his brother with relish. Now, however, the young child was stealing prawn from Keigo's soup and was getting away with it. _

_Keigo huffed, sniffing. "If you want the prawn so bad, ask for it," he drawled lazily, before forking several prawn pieces—the only remaining ones—from his soup and dumping them unceremoniously into Ryoma's bowl, much to the surprise of the said child. _

_Ryoma stared down at the prawn pieces, and then trailed his stare towards Keigo, then back again, before a grin crept up on his face. The boy then promptly shifted into shovel-food-into-mouth mode, a trademark eating mode for Echizens. (They were simply lucky Echizens had good gag reflex suppression.) _

_And thus, that started the soup and prawn tradition._

* * *

Nanjiroh chortled at that particular memory, reminiscing how silly that particular tradition was. Over the years, Ryoma got over his prawn obsession, but there was an unspoken agreement that whenever Keigo was around and there was soup with prawns (preferably bouillabaisse, as Ryoma later on discovered at a meal at the Atobe's), he would dump his prawn pieces into Ryoma's soup bowl without asking.

As time passed and Ryoma grew, he suspected the prawn and soup memory brought comfort to Ryoma, and as such, it became Ryoma's comfort food. Suffice to say, whenever Ryoma was eating bouillabaisse and prawn—or requested it from his mother—it meant that he was either royally pissed or incredibly depressed.

Nanjiroh sighed, his mind returning to the events of the breakfast earlier. Ryoma _was_ incredibly depressed, and that would explain the selectively prawn-rich bouillabaisse he had with Keigo earlier. He looked out of the window in time to see a lightning bolt strike down, illuminating Odaiba Bay.

And now, Ryoma was about to be depressed even more because of the stormy weather.

And why was that again?

* * *

_Flashback_

_"Yosh! We're here!" announced Nanjiroh, throwing the van's door wide open and letting the two kids—Keigo and Ryoma—come prancing out of the vehicle at last. The two have been irritatingly insistent on being let out—even if they were in the middle of the freeway—and Rinko only managed to keep them down so much. _

_Ryoga snorted and exited the van, pulling with him his bag full of what-nots—mostly prank material—and taking the cooler that he could carry to help his dad. _

_They were parked beside a camping reserve, a public park that spanned a couple of hectares around and was very woody. It was the haven for nature-loving people, and Rinko was one of them. Nanjiroh didn't object; it was a nice change of atmosphere. _

_The woods were flourishing under the bright sun, a few clouds drifting here and there. All in all, it was wonderful spring weather, the ideally perfect condition for a small family camping slash picnic. _

_Rinko and Nanjiroh started hauling the stuff out—there wasn't much, really—with Ryoga occasionally helping. They walked with their luggage forward, Nanjiroh locking the car doors behind them. There was this small clearing they frequented on the other side of the woods, but it was already taken for today, so they chose to take another spot at the opposite side of the reserve. _

_They followed the paved dirt path through the forest, and as promised on the map Nanjiroh was clutching, it did lead to a clearing that was just about as large as the other clearing they wanted, if not larger. One edge opened to a dock that had a boat floating atop the glassy surface of the huge lake separating the woods into two sides, and the trees opened up to let enough shafts of sunlight through to illuminate their little meadow. _

_Sure enough, as soon as the kids dropped their bags on the ground by the camping logs, they started running and shrieking around playfully. _

_"Ryoma-chan, Keigo-kun, don't forget to wear your jackets, okay?" called Rinko as the two ran towards the dock. "And be careful over there, you might fall off!" _

_"Yes, moooom!" Ryoma called back, but Rinko still wondered if the child even heard her. _

_"Yes, auntie!" echoed Keigo with the same tone that children used to indicate they weren't listening and neither did they care. _

_Keigo and Ryoma promptly started chasing each other around, playing relentlessly as Rinko started cooking and Nanjiroh started setting up his fishing equipment. Ryoga was curiously poking around with a hollow log, absent in his own world like he so often did when he was deep in thought. _

_Soon, it was time for lunch. They had sandwiches, toasted marshmallows—due to the kids' insistence even if it wasn't dinnertime yet—and some barbeque. The day passed by in a complete blur for both Ryoma and Keigo, as much as it did for an overly curious Ryoga who was now chasing a hedgehog up the dirt path. They didn't even realize it was four past noon already. _

_"Ne, Ryoma, look at that!" Keigo quipped. "Look, look!" _

_Ryoma hummed in question and leaned forward to squint further into the woods, where there was a glint of something metallically silver. His eyes widened as he angled his head and he caught the glint of light. _

_"What's that?" he voiced in wonder. _

_"I don't know," Keigo muttered in similar curiosity. _

_The two children looked at each other, and mutual thoughts that ran through their heads flashed on their faces. The two of them set off on a brisk trot towards the direction of the glinting object, slipping past the bushels and undergrowth towards that one direction. _

_How long they walked, they didn't know. What they did know was that they were getting closer, and that the glinting was getting duller, as if the light was slowly decreasing. There were no other noises in the forest, only the shuffling of their feet against the dried leaves on the ground, and constantly dimming distant lapping of the fresh water lake against the shore. _

_Soon, they reached the source of the glinting. _

_"Wow," they both said simultaneously, looking up at the huge tree seemingly in the middle of the forest. It was a sprawling oak tree with sturdy-looking branches and a small hole at the base of it, large enough for the two of them to fit in comfortably with moving space. _

_There was a small ridge on the bark of the tree, where a silver necklace was lodged firmly against. _

_"So _that_ was what we saw," Keigo nodded, stepping up towards the tree and scrambling to get a hold on the bark's ledges and reach up to get the necklace. After a few moments of struggling and a bit of help from Ryoma, they managed to retrieve the pretty necklace that had a lion with a dragon's tail as the pendant. _

_The two of them held it in their small hands, looking at the design in admiration. _

_"It's pretty," Ryoma crooned. _

_The necklace looked new and untarnished, and probably had been lodged there pretty recently from someone who walked past or climbed the tree. _

_"Let's show it to oyaji!" quipped Ryoma cheerfully, and agreement sparked in Keigo's eyes immediately. _

_Only to be dimmed a few seconds later. _

_"Ryoma, where's auntie and uncle?" Keigo asked uncertainly. _

_"Huh?" Ryoma voiced, looking around. _

_Silence. _

_The clearing they were in was considerably smaller than their camp site, and they were circled by dark-barked trees swaying in the wind with the receding dusky sunlight. There was no sign of anyone, nor any tracks of their footsteps, since they were walking on the grass and leaves piled on the ground. The bushels looked as undisturbed as ever and gave them no clues. _

_"Where are we?" whispered Keigo, the first hint of fear creeping into his voice. A hand crept into his, and he clutched at it tightly, steeling himself. He was the older one here. He should be able to take care of himself _and_ Ryoma. He was an Atobe after all. _

_Keigo took the necklace from Ryoma's hands and tucked it safely into his inner jacket pocket, zipping it closed. He then gathered Ryoma close, the younger child thankfully snuggling into him in the first throes of fear. _

_Ryoma looked around them as the wind started picking up, the cold creeping slowly around them as the warmth of the sun walked away. _

_"We shouldn't have gone far," muttered Ryoma. _

_"I know," Keigo sighed back, still remaining rooted to the spot. _

_Then there was a loud crash of thunder, making Ryoma jump and shriek in fright, grabbing at Keigo desperately. Keigo was startled out of his wits as well, but managed to regain enough composure to pull Ryoma into the small hole at the base of the tree when the first dollops of rain started to fall. _

_Soon, it was a complete downpour of black against black. The night was coming, and along with it came a storm. _

_Ryoma shivered against him, pressing closer. He drew the younger boy closer to him, looking outside as the lightning crashed and outlined different shadows in the moment of illumination. As vivid as the child's imagination was, it was no wonder how Ryoma developed the fright for lightning and storms and the thunder and the shadows. _

_He whimpered and buried his head against Keigo's neck as the night started drawing in, trying to shut away the images but failing miserably. _

_"Hush, now, Ryoma-chan," muttered Keigo, sounding very mature. "I'm right here. We're together, ne?" _

_"U-Un," Ryoma faintly nodded against his shoulder. There was silence between them for a while, disturbed only by the occasional squeaks of surprise from Ryoma every time thunder cracked. "… Keigo, I-I heard you singing o-one time in y-your house. S-Sing for m-me?" _

_And that's exactly what he did. _

_They were found later on in the early dawn, when a searching party was released across the reserve after the storm abated. The two children came running to Rinko's arms, and when asked why they ran off, they showed them the necklace. _

_Nanjiroh noted the surprise and recognition flash across Ryoga's face for less than half a second, before it was masked again by a playful cheerfulness. Since then, Nanjiroh held on to that chimera necklace._

* * *

_And ironically enough, it turned out that the chimera necklace was the key,_ snorted Nanjiroh. _The key to everything. The clue.  
_

He shook his head, chiding himself for returning to the unpleasant thoughts again, before downing his beer in one straight and tossing it to the bin. He stood, stretched, and moved towards the bed.

_Time to sleep._

* * *

Ryoma shot up from sleep like lightning as thunder cracked outside.

Casting his eyes around the place confusedly, he jumped as another crack of thunder resounded through the house, echoing against the roaring waves outside and the pounding rain. There was a flash of startling lightning, and it illuminated the spacious and normally warm but now-creepy room.

He whimpers, clutching the comforter closer to him. He was sick, he was depressed, he was confused, and he was frightened.

"Karupin…"

His small noise caught Keigo's attention, who was sitting on one couch beside the bed, reading by a small book light Ryoma failed to notice because of his fright.

"Ryoma?" Keigo called, shutting his book gently after marking the page, and setting it down on the bedside table. He stood and sat on the bed instead, opening his arms and beckoning for Ryoma. "Ryoma, come."

Another crack of thunder and speeding lightning sent Ryoma launching into Keigo's arms, where he was enveloped in warmth. Keigo rubbed a soothing palm up and down Ryoga's faintly sweaty back, whispering sweet nothings into the younger one's hair.

Keigo made a move to put Ryoma back to bed, but the teen stopped him.

"Ryoma?"

"I-I don't want to sleep yet," muttered Ryoma against Keigo's shoulder. "I-I want to stay up until it d-dies."

At that, Keigo looked down into the ridiculously large yet adorable golden orbs shining with fear and trepidation, fully aware of the white knuckles clutching at him with such ferocity as if there was no tomorrow. The young teen's actions were contradicting his words.

And yet, there was that stubborn determination Keigo just couldn't deter.

Keigo sighed and conceded. "If that is what you wish."

There was a non-committal sound from Ryoma's throat as he snuggled further into Keigo's embrace. Keigo looked out into the storm, and was suddenly struck with an idea. He took one of Ryoma's hands, which was clutching at him tightly.

"Come, Ryoma, I want to show you something," muttered Keigo, pulling away and tugging on Ryoma's hand hard enough to effectively haul the boy out of bed.

"Wha… Keigo! What are you doing!" Ryoma yelled in horror, his voice masked by the pounding rain. He dug his heels into the carpet and tried to pry his hand away from Keigo's, but the Hametsu e no Rondo technique had strengthened Keigo's wrists impeccably. Add to that the fact that Keigo was older, taller, stronger, and had more weight to put against Ryoma; the younger teen was at a loss.

Keigo dragged him out towards the balcony, all the while talking. "Well, it's about time I show you this. You said you wanted to wait for the storm to die. Watching and waiting only makes it seem longer," he pointed out as-a-matter-of-factly. Then he smirked. "And besides, we've known each other for practically most of our lives. Don't you think it's time you shared another storm with me, this time less traumatic and more romantic?"

But Ryoma was far too gone into panic.

"Keigo, what--?" he stuttered as Keigo dragged them out into the storm, the rain beating down on them, the lightning and thunder dancing above them, the sea churning before them. In fear as another bold struck, Ryoma clutched onto Keigo for dear life. "Kei!"

Keigo chuckled and turned Ryoma around so that Ryoma's back was against his chest. He drew his arms protectively around Ryoma and sealed the teen close.

"Hush, now, Ryoma-chan," he smiled nostalgically, recounting the words he had said years ago in a slightly similar situation, the words that got Ryoma to trust him fully at last. "I'm right here. I'll _always_ be here. I promise."

Keigo nuzzled Ryoma's wet hair.

"Listen. Feel. There's nothing to be afraid of," Keigo said, gesturing towards the skies and the seas. And then, before Ryoma knew it, the elder started reciting one of the long-forgotten Shakesperean phrases they had learned in school in the US.

"Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm  
Invades us to the skin. So 'tis to thee.  
But where the greater malady is fixed  
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear,  
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea  
Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free,  
The body's delicate. The tempest in my mind  
Doth from my senses take all feeling else  
Save what beats there."

Ryoma, overcome with the cheesiness and the ridiculousness of the situation, snorted lightly before relaxing slightly. "You're incredibly, unbelievably lame, you know."

Keigo smiled and gave Ryoma a squeeze. "This tempest will not give you leave to ponder on things would hurt you more," he said. "These tempests are my outlet, my emotions. My frustration, my anger, my pain, my fear. My rage and fury, my jealousy. This is every negativity."

Ryoma grinned against Keigo's arm. "Dramatic much, Kei?"

"Not as much as I'm entitled to, Ryo," Keigo said softly into Ryoma's ear.

There was a bit of silence between the two of them. The storm was starting to subside, and the sky was turning a lighter grey as the sun started to rise once again.

"Keigo?"

"Hmm?"

"Arigatou, ne," muttered Ryoma sleepily, silently. "You've been such a good friend, even if I tried to drive you away."

"…"

"Honto ni arigatou."

Keigo simply smiled as Ryoma soon fell limp into his arms. He carried the young teen back into the chambers and into the huge baths, changed their clothes and dried them off, before putting Ryoma back to bed.

He pulled his phone from the bedside table, pressing a speed dial for his majordomo.

"Keigo-bocchama, what can I do for you, sir?"

"No one is to disturb my chambers today. Ryoma needs his sleep."

"Of course, Keigo-bocchama. I'll inform the maids right away."

There was a beep.

* * *

"Where's Ryoma?" Fuji asked Tezuka as the tensai sat into his usual seat, taking little time to revel in the fresh, earthly damp air from the open windows. He was far too concerned about his little kitten that he almost never noticed anyone else anymore except Tezuka.

Tezuka, at the question, clutched at his silverware harder, his jaw muscles tightening. It was a normal thing at breakfast to have Tezuka and Ryoma come down at the same time, but right now, Ryoma was nowhere in sight.

"Yeah, buchou, where's ochibi-chan?" voiced Eiji. "Haven't seen him since yesterday morning."

"He didn't seem to have slept in his room last night," Tezuka announced silently through gritted teeth, but it was almost unnoticeable except to the really sensitive people. Kevin sighed at the statement and poked at his egg.

Eiji, though, being the normally imaginative—disastrously so—person he was, started blabbering.

"Nya, Oishi!" he voiced worriedly, turning to Oishi and clinging to him. "Oishi, what if something happened to ochibi-chan? Nooooo, nya! There was a storm last night; what if he went out at the beach and drowned, nya??!"

This statement, heard by the rest of the table, raised pandemonium.

"EH? Echizen DROWNED?" Momoshiro exclaimed, dropping his fork with a clatter.

Oishi worriedly shifted into mother hen mode. "Ah, Momo! We're not sure yet, but we'd better… ah, yes, we'd better set up a search party!"

"YUUUSHIIIIIIIIIIII!" screeched Gakuto, totally losing grip. He squashed his yet-again blue-faced doubles partner—and unofficial lover—tightly. "ATOBE'S GONNA KILL US IF HE FINDS OUT ECHIZEN IS MISSING, OR WORSE—" he screeched, pausing, before gasping dramatically. "—DEAD!" he wailed miserably. "NOOOO, I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIEEEEE!!"

And as with the telephone game, Eiji misunderstood as expected.

"EHHH?!?!? OCHIBI'S DEAD?!?!?! NYAAAAAAAAAAAAA, OIIIIISHIIIIIIIIII!!" he screamed, exploding out of his seat and running around like a headless chicken and knocking Marui's cake over.

Marui gave an anguished cry that was drowned out by the rest of the explosion on the table.

Yukimura stared at the rest of them bemusedly. "Oh dear. We really should stop them."

But he did nothing about the matter, remaining relaxed back against his chair as Sanada kneaded his shoulder muscles.

Kirihara, who was beside him, examined his nails with abandon. "Yeah, you really should, Mura-buchou."

Sanada pauses and pops an aspirin in the background, kneading his own head and attempting to drive away the impending headache.

Just then, though, Sanada could have proclaimed that he liked Atobe to the world.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" a voice roared from the top of the stairs, echoing through the mansion's halls and silencing all of them, sending them into virtual time-freeze. Keigo descended the stairs in a few smooth strides, entering the dining area.

Silence.

Fuji, though, seemed unperturbed. "Saa, Atobe. Ryoma seems to be missing," he said with cold steel eyes.

Atobe sneered at him. "He is in my chambers, getting some well-needed sleep. Although I doubt he's still is after all that racket."

If possible, Fuji's glare froze even harder. "Is that so? Why did he not sleep in his rooms?"

Atobe snapped sharply, "That's none of your business, is it, Fuji."

Fuji finally turned to face Atobe fully, glaring full-force. "Oh, I believe it is," he said with a frosty, foreboding smile.

Kevin's chair scraped against the floor roughly as he scrambled to stop the impending catfight.

"Guys, stop—"

Just then, Ryoma arrived at the top of the stairs, the purple he wore catching everyone's attention. He was wearing white pajamas, and Keigo's purple robe around him. His face was pale and drawn, and he looked sick and terrible, shaking and eyes glazed.

"Keigo…"

He swayed.

* * *

Keigo was extremely royally pissed off at Fuji, and that was the biggest understatement of the century.

Fuji was lucky that Kevin was there acting as a stand-between, he thought, as he sneered in contempt at Fuji, who was glaring at him hard enough to freeze hell over ten times. He had to admit, Fuji was intimidating, and at times, he didn't even want to imagine what would happen to him if he crossed the tensai's path.

But for Ryoma, he would risk it.

He started when Kevin cut himself off, blue eyes darting towards the top of the stairs. He turned, and found Ryoma, sickly and pale-faced, standing there as frail as a sheet of paper.

"Keigo…"

Ryoma swayed.

Keigo watched, as if in slow motion, dreading what was about to happen, and dreading the fact that he could do nothing to stop it from his vantage point. Instinct willed his body to move even when his mind told him it was futile.

Ryoma fainted on the edge of the stairs, coming down in a tumble.

"RYOMA!"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

BWAHAHAHAHA!! Cliffhangers!

Love.

Next chapter coming Tuesday, 20 Feb 2007. That's one week from now. (Aventria: hopefully with the revision done like this one)

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 02.13.07  
First Revision Version: 02.14.07 _


	18. Step Eighteen: Bittersweet Sacrifice

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Alrighty! People, don't get too excited about Ryoma and Atobe's past. The best part's yet to come.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Eighteen: Bittersweet Sacrifice**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Ryoma felt himself sway and tip over.

Everything was dimming, it was growing dark, and the air was slowly turning colder. His vision swam before his eyes in swirls, and as he struggled to keep the dizzying confusion out of his mind, he stumbled.

He knew that he was going to tip down the stairs, roll, and stumble over until he reached the bottom; probably getting a few lifelong injuries with it. He knew that if that happened, it would spell the end of his tennis career. And the end of his tennis career practically meant the end of his world _and_ his dad's world.

He wanted to stop himself, but couldn't.

_Help._

He struggled to free himself from the gripping, creeping unconsciousness, but couldn't.

_Help._

He wanted to go back into Keigo's room and sleep all day. This was a big mistake after all.

_Somebody help._ _Keigo._

And then, as sudden as lightning, he was in familiar, warm arms.

And they were falling.

* * *

Keigo lunged forward.

He knew it was futile. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent injuries on either or both of them if he did so. He knew that he most probably would end up ruining his whole future with this small accident.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop from lunging towards where Ryoma was tipping.

He scaled the staircase in a few athletic leaps, showing how perfectly agile and fit his physique was. Never was he as thankful for his sports training as he was right then. He lithely scaled the last few steps and caught Ryoma as the young teen was falling, but the brunt of the weight and the strength of the impact tipped his precarious balance over, making him tip as well.

_It doesn't matter._

He wrapped the smaller frame of the teen in his arms and pulled him close as they fell. He felt the sharp impact of an edge against his middle back and the sting of an abrasion against his calf. He felt something bump painfully against his ankle, and he felt _enormous_ pain erupt on his temple. His vision faltered for a few heart-stopping seconds, before returning to normal.

Then, as sudden as it began, they stopped tumbling down.

And there was silence.

"Keigo-bocchama!" cried one of the maids, who were one of the first ones who came out of momentary shock. "Keigo-bocchama, you're bleeding!"

"Well, duh, thanks for stating the obvious," drawled someone out of Keigo's vision, and he recognized a bit blearily as Kirihara's I'm-not-interested-so-you-can-fuck-off voice. The maid squeaked in surprise, as if she forgot that there was someone else in the room.

"More importantly, someone get the first aid kit," another more authoritative, collected voice came. It was Tachibana. "They're already calling the Atobe family's doctor, I think, so we just have to get them patched up until the doctors come and diagnose."

Fuji snapped out of his shock and made to hastily approach Keigo and Ryoma, but was surprised when Keigo snarled at him, wild eyes feral. He froze in his tracks, forehead creasing, sensing there was something wrong with Keigo as the young rich heir clutched Ryoma's unconscious form closer.

Inside Keigo's head, it was a blur of images. Flashes from the past and flashes from the recent present were rushing into his mind, swimming before his eyes. He was honestly confused. One moment, he was back in that horrifyingly terrible moment when Ryoma was taken to the hospital when there were young, and the next, they were back in the present.

His head was pounding from the onslaught of memories as well as the concussion he acquired from the fall. He was confused. More than confused.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE COME NEAR HIM!" he roared, silencing the whole hall, which was, until a few moments ago, buzzing with nervous activity. "DON'T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR US!" he continued, clutching Ryoma closer protectively, obsessively. This was the first time he ever outwardly cursed in front of an audience.

Yukimura raised _both_ his eyebrows.

Apparently, it was that either Keigo had a pretty bad concussion and was totally lost from current time, or that he was just breaking down. After all, the young Atobe heir had always deemed it _lowly_ to use such plebeian expressions.

Nanjiroh, however, seemed unfazed. The older man cursed.

"Damn it, why now?" he grumbled. His eyes perked as Fuji once again tried to approach. He strode to the tensai in two strong strides and pulled him back a tad bit too roughly for Fuji's tastes. The tensai narrowed his eyes at him.

"Nanjiroh-sensei."

The terse iciness in the tensai's voice made Nanjiroh's insides freeze, but the brave man plowed on.

"If you value my son's life _at all,_" Nanjiroh began slowly, making sure to make each word he said loud and clear. "You will do as he says."

There was silence. Fuji's glare intensified, piercing straight through Nanjiroh.

But the coach held his ground.

"I won't have a hysterical Keigo caring for my son, Fuji," Nanjiroh said in a monotone voice.

Fuji let out a bark of laughter. "What do you _think_ you're doing right now?!" Fuji snapped. "Isn't _that_ hysterics?" he demanded, gesturing to Keigo, whose eyes were still wild and unfocused. "I'll take care of Ryoma," he said with finality.

"_Keigo_…" Nanjiroh began again, with a tone sharper than the previous, effectively stopping Fuji in his tracks yet again. "…is the one Ryoma needs. Ryoma needs to _heal_."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" Fuji hissed, eyes sharpening as his glare turned full-force.

Kevin, ever the go-between, pushed towards Fuji and took the tensai's arm firmly, digging his foot into place in case the tensai tried to pull away. "Fuji, _please_," he pleaded with complete sincerity behind his words. "Ryoma needs to heal. You _can't_ interfere. _Please_."

"How _can_ he heal if a hysterical Atobe is holding him and snarling like—like a _fucking_ animal at us whenever we come near?!" Fuji yelled.

Tezuka gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, his forehead creasing. This was _not_ going good.

"You don't understand!" Kevin struggled to placate Fuji. "You don't se—"

"How _can I understand_ if _no one _fucking EXPLAINS ANYTHING?!" Fuji lashed out, knocking Kevin off him in the process.

"Fuji! Calm down!" Oishi immediately mediated, while Momoshiro and Toushi steadied the stumbling Kevin.

"Nyaa, Fujiko…"

Fuji hissed in frustration and stormed off, heading towards the beach, clutching his head in his hands. The other players let him through without any further ado, more than half of them frightened at what the tensai could do when further provoked. They were lucky that Yukimura had longer patience than Fuji had, and that they didn't have to worry about Yukimura cracking under pressure and frustration like this anytime soon, unless of course something happened.

Tezuka sighed. "Sensei, can you please make sure Ryoma is safe?" he asked Nanjiroh politely. "I think I might have to deal with Fuji now instead of let it boil further. I'm sure you know how dangerous he can get."

Nanjiroh suppressed a shudder and nodded. "Go ahead, Tezuka-kun. I'll notify you of any changes made later, as well as Ryoma's condition," he conceded, and Tezuka walked away after Fuji.

Nanjiroh then turned towards Atobe, who was still cradling Ryoma in his arms with a confused and wild look on his features. There was blood trickling down the open gash on Atobe's temple, and it seemed that the possibility of a concussion was present.

_I honestly am getting too old for these teenaged dramas._

"Kei-kun," Nanjiroh soothingly called Keigo, who looked up at him groggily. The lad was slowly dropping into unconsciousness, and Nanjiroh wouldn't have that. "Kei-kun, it's alright. It's me."

Keigo growled and tightened his hold on Ryoma possessively. Nanjiroh remembered vividly a screaming, flailing Keigo refusing to let go of Ryoma when they were kids because of a certain… event.

_And now we're having a replay? Fuck me now._

"It's okay, Kei-kun, Nan-ji-chan promises not to separate the two of you," Nanjiroh slowly said, approaching bit by bit.

Nanjiroh cheered. It seemed to be working. Keigo's eyes were focusing slightly, and they were clearing. It seemed that the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. But that would also mean the concussion was kicking in.

"Ji… chan?"

"That's right, Kei-kun," Nanjiroh nodded encouragingly. "I'll make sure that you stay with Ryoma. But he's sick right now. We have to make him better."

"Ryo… sick? My fault…" Keigo blurrily mumbled, his eyelids slowly drooping, but his head was clearing slowly. "Ji-chan… take care… Ryoma… gomen…"

And with that, Keigo slumped over, completely blacking out.

There was a collective breath of relief as the heir's grip on Ryoma loosened considerably as Nanjiroh approached. The coach pried his son away from Keigo carefully, feeling the younger one's forehead. He clucked his tongue as he felt the burning temperature of the skin beneath his hand.

"High fever," he murmured. Keigo was being taken care of by the majordomo and some of the other servants, and the recently-arrived medical staff was already starting to swarm over them. He handed Ryoma over to two of the servants. "Make sure not to separate them. Let them sleep in Keigo's bed after examination and treatment."

The servants nodded and started to whisk Ryoma and Keigo away towards the Bay Wing. Nanjiroh, meanwhile, turned back to the mass of players gathering at the base of the stairs, sensing the palpable tension in the air and the increasing volume of chatter and murmurs.

"Jiroh-kun, gomen," Nanjiroh neutrally said with a monotonic, emotionless voice that startled the heck out of the remaining players inside the room. "You and Tezuka-kun will have to move temporarily into the North Wing until further notice. I'm sure you understand."

Jiroh simply yawned, nodded, and waved his hand in dismissal, before sinking into one of the sofas and nodding off into dreamland within three seconds. A collective suffering sigh came from the Hyotei members as their sleepyhead went off into his favorite 'adventure' again. It was one habit that was ingrained into Jiroh, and had no hopes of being pulled out of his system.

"It's strange, though," muttered Kamio. "He never gets jealous of Ryoma even if Atobe's all over the kid."

Gakuto rubbed his eyes and stretched, yawning as well. "He understands why Atobe does this, and that's his reason, I guess," the redhead pulled out, before rubbing his lower back. "Gawd, that _bed_ is _hell_. I'd better ask one of the maids to check if there's something in the mattress or what..."

"The Bay Wing is to be cleared until I say it's okay," Nanjiroh's voice came again over the small crowd of players. "Both Atobe and Ryoma need their time alone. I'll call your schools and cancel your classes today, since you're already late anyways," he sighed, checking the grandfather clock that was sitting against the wall regally. It _did_ say half-past eight.

* * *

_Damn these teenage dramas, they tire me out _and _steal practice time!_

_My head hurts..._

A groan.

_Scratch that. My whole _body _hurts..._

A rustle of fabric.

Keigo forced his eyes to open, pulling himself out of the floating reverie he was in and plunging himself into real time. He gasped as the pain washed over him once he was fully conscious and his brain was able to properly receive and process the input of signals coming from all over his body. It was as if he was doused with cold water and electrocuted.

He groaned again as he reached up, his muscles complaining loudly. He pushed the pain away, touching his temple, where the most amount of numbing pain was coming from. He hissed as he felt three stitches there, and then memories flooded back into his brain of what happened prior.

He sighed, closing his eyes again. He didn't know if he wanted to feel elated that Fuji was _so_ enraged that he walked off, or to feel worried that Ryoma was sick.

Opting for the latter a few moments later, he reopened his eyes and turned to his side, where Ryoma was cuddled up against a huge body pillow, snoozing peacefully. He reached out a hand and placed it over the younger one's forehead, feeling for the temperature.

_Good. It's stable and not too hot._

It seemed the medical staff already came and took care of Ryoma's condition. Now he could be assured that his young charge would be fine in a few hours of well-needed sleep.

He sighed and remembered the first time he had... _overreacted_ to Ryoma's condition. (And he refused to use _any_ other word, for Atobe-sama does _not_ hyperventilate.)

* * *

_Flashback_

_"Nan-ji-chan, Ryoma's falling asleep!"_

_"Nanjiroh, we need to get him to the hospital!"_

_There was cursing. There was the subdued sound of the family van being restarted under the pouring freezing rain. Little seven-year-old Keigo gripped the limp, cold body of a frozen and beaten Ryoma against his small chest. Ugly bruises littered the younger's unconscious body, and blood matted one side of his head._

_Keigo_ _didn't even notice they were moving already. There was sobbing somewhere in front of him, and he guessed it was Rinko-ba-san in the passenger seat. The two of them_—_him and the unconscious Ryoma_—_were in the back of the van, their soaked clothes dripping on the seats._

_"'Kuso, if Ryoma never gets to play tennis again because of this, I _swear _I'll hunt those bastards to _hell_!" came a yell from the front seat, where Nanjiroh was torn between his wrath and worry. He was gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white, the blood draining from them. There was a hateful glare in his eyes. He cursed loudly again, no longer heeding the presence of two youngsters in the van's back._

_Keigo_ _supressed his pressing desire to break down and cry._

_No, not this time. Ryoma needed him to be strong. Ryoma needed him since Ryoga was no longer there._

_He steeled himself and tried to keep Ryoma's drooping eyelids up—except that Ryoma was already unconscious, and he was just convincing himself that the boy wasn't. "Ryoma-chan, don't sleep. Listen to me, Ryoma, don't sleep, dont' sleep, okay?"_

_Rinko_ _sobbed louder as she watched Keigo holding Ryoma's smaller body and talking to keep the wounded boy awake._

_Keigo_ _didn't even notice that they were at the hospital already, and he only woke up from his automatic keep-Ryoma-awake mode when the van's side door was wrenched open and the flourescent white light of the hospital emergency entrance flooded into the dark small space they were intially confined in._

_And before he could recognize what was happening, hands were trying to pry Ryoma_—_albeit carefully_—_from him. _

_And that was where he snapped._

_"NO! DON'T YOU DARE COME NEAR HIM!" he all but screamed, kicking and flailing against somebody_—_he didn't know whose anymore_—_who was holding him back. "DON'T YOU DARE COME NEAR US! RYOMA!!"_

_"Keigo, get a hold of yourself_—_"_

_"Please hold him down!"_

_"Careful, the young one_—_"_

_"Keigo, please!"_

_"Ouch, that hurt_—_"_

_"No! ORE-SAMA WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS! I DEMAND YOU GIVE ME BACK MY RYOMA AT ONCE!"_

_Inwardly, Nanjiroh rolled his eyes. Of course. If the 'throw-a-tantrum' tactic doesn't work, go for the Keigo-ego-sized-demands._

_Keigo_ _kicked and flailed and put up a wonderful fight as he tried to reach for Ryoma, who was a bit farther away from him now, and was being prepared for the stretcher._

_"RYOMA!"_

_There was a silent small groan from the younger boy. "Urusai yo, monkey king... you're too noisy..."_

_There was an entirely silent pause within the vicinity as Keigo's kicking and flailing ceased for a while. Well, at least for the part of the family. The medical staff just bustled on over Ryoma as the boy groaned and moaned in his stretcher in apparent pain._

_"Can't you give him the painkillers yet?" Rinko hustled. "Please give him the painkillers already--he's in pain!"_

_The doctor started to talk to Rinko, and the mother was completely oblivious to Keigo bulleting towards Ryoma's side and gripping Ryoma's well hand._

_"Ryoma-chan, hang on, okay?" Keigo worriedly murmured against the skin of the hand._

_"I'm fin--"_

_"You're NOT fine!" Keigo snapped hotly, anger burning in those passionate eyes. "You're hardly fine, Ryoma, so don't give me that crap!"_

_Ryoma_ _coughed slightly, a bit of blood coming up. He faintly smiled at Keigo, who smiled back even though he was dead worried about his friend and favorite playmate. The medics started pushing the stretcher into the emergency room, and Keigo, Nanjiroh, and Rinko were all left behind. _

_"Come on, Rinko-chan, let's go and park the car and then we'll go back inside," muttered Nanjiroh, sighing as he shook his head regretfully, eyes shining with barely hidden worry._

* * *

Sighing and sinking back against the bed, Keigo stared at Ryoma's peaceful sleeping countenance. That event was now a decade ago, and yet it was still fresh within his mind. He was traumatized.

He snorted at that.

_If _I'm _traumatized and I was just a spectator, Ryoma must be into one hell of a hidden trauma inside._

He sighed, rubbing his head against and trying to resist the temptation to scratch the devilishly itchy wound on his temple. The healing process was already underway.

He reached over to his side, his hand groping—in a most dignified manner befitting of an Atobe, of course—for the cordless phone reciever. He snatched the item off the cradle and dialed his majordomo.

There was something he wanted to get his little kitten.

* * *

"Mreow."

A groan.

"Mreow... rrrr..."

A squirm.

"Mreooooow..."

Karupin rubbed and purred against Ryoma's side, the bushy tail waving side to side in the air in slow, languid sweeps. Atobe chuckled lightly as he watched the proceedings, sitting on the same red sofa he had been sitting in the previous night beside Ryoma's side of the bed.

Thankfully, the world was as it should be again, and he no longer felt like tipping over, though his wound itched and irritated him like hell.

When he woke up, he had called his majordomo to get his chauffeur to fetch Karupin from the Echizen household and bring him to the manor. After all, Ryoma needed some cuddling.

"Mmm... Karupin..." groaned Ryoma, rolling over and almost squishing the cat underneath him. He rubbed his face and opened one bleary eye. Ryoma didn't get any lasting injuries during the fall—Keigo made sure of that—but he _still_ was sick.

Karupin unceremoniously swaddled over Ryoma's clothed chest, raising his tail even higher and wagging it in the air as if shouting to the world that this was his territory. (Well, actually, that was probably what he was doing.)

"...Karupin?" Ryoma voiced inquiringly when his clear state of mind had returned. "Wha...?"

The smaller teen looked around him, apparently struggling to put together the pieces of whatever he remembered early this morning.

"Keigo...?"

"Right here," Keigo chuckled, petting the top of Ryoma's head. "How're you feeling, pet?"

Ryoma, however, was too preoccupied with Karupin rubbing up against his chest and purring all over him. The teen ignored Keigo's question altogether. "What's Karupin doing here?"

"I called for my chauffeur to fetch him from your home," Keigo explained, playing fondly with Ryoma's hair. "Again, Ryoma. How are you feeling?"

"I'm _fine_, Keigo," snorted Ryoma, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Keigo snorted indignantly right back at him. "I hardly call being dizzy enough to tip over and fall down the stairs _fine_, Ryo."

"Shuddup."

And the cat lover went back to hugging and petting and cuddling his precious Himalayan spotted cat.

* * *

Tezuka sighed, rubbing his forehead in annoyance and frustration.

Ryoma was sick. Fuji was _furious_. Atobe was a pain in the arse.

And he _just_ didn't know what to do.

Normally, it would be one problem that he would be able to solve. He was a captain after all, and he had experience in these all-or-none matters.

But this one was different.

A _hell_ of a lot different.

He wanted to just take Ryoma in his arms and make it all better, but that wouldn't work, considering Atobe was guarding Ryoma like an immortal sentinel straight out of a fairy tale. There was also the fact that Ryoma was _still_ mad at him and _still_ refuses to forgive him for whatever he did.

He wanted to just run away with Fuji and _forget_ that there was _ever _a problem—it was the best solution when the tensai was angry. But he wasn't angry. He. Was. _Furious_. Tezuka even praised himself endlessly and inflated his ego when he managed to approach and temporarily calm Fuji down. Right now, the tensai was harmlessly—well, ok, not harmlessly, God knows Fuji would _never_ be harm_less_—_peacefully_ sleeping inside their now-shared rooms (since he was booted out of the Bay Wing).

And last but _definitely_ not the least, he wanted _so much_ to wring Atobe's neck for interfering and sticking his royally screwed…behind—for it is unbecoming of buchou to say "ass"—into their business.

Now, it was _totally_ unbecoming of a captain to be this way—and that was exactly the reason why he was maintaining his tough facade on the outside and trying his best to be strong for his team even if he was crumbling from the inside because of the pressure—but he was also human, and humans were _completely_ entitled to these feelings. So he satisfied himself with that justification, no matter how meager that was.

He sighed, resisting the overwhelming urge to bang his head against the pristine cypress wooden walls adorned with the expensive portraits and paintings.

He shook himself out of his stupor and resumed walking towards the Bay Wing, where his real room was. The maid had forgotten to bring him one of his bags. He assumed the maid didn't see it, since it was underneath the bed—Ryoma had kicked it in there one time and he forgot to take it out—and as such, he didn't want to burden them by asking them to get it for him, so he went himself.

He knew that the Bay Wing was off limits for them right now, but this was just _one_ visit, and he _had_ gotten permission from their sensei, so he was all green.

He strode into the Bay Wing, approaching the double oak doors of Atobe's domain. His room's door was beyond those double doors, and no matter how he loathed the fact that he _had_ to risk seeing Atobe by passing the doors, he _had _to.

So he did.

But he stopped short right before the oak doors as a slither of light made its way into the darkened Bay Wing halls as he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter out of his current object of… disinclination and one of his objects of affection.

The oak doors were opened. Just a crack, but open nonetheless.

Unable to resist the urge—and mentally castrating himself for the uncouth behavior—he peeked in.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw Ryoma smiling blissfully wide, eyes twinkling with happiness and contentment as a playful Karupin purred and squirmed in his arms...

_Heaven..._

...while leaning into Atobe, who had an arm around Ryoma's shoulder and was playing with the younger one's hair.

_...not._

Ryoma leaned even more into Atobe's one-armed embrace if that was possible. He sighed contentedly. "You know, if this is the part where I'm supposed to declare my... _fondness_ for you, I wouldn't, since I don't want to run the risk of sounding as ridiculously cheesy as you do."

Atobe simply chuckled.

"Of course, darling," he muttered, though perfectly audible to Tezuka's ears. "I wouldn't have expected it from a brat prince like you anyways."

Ryoma rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "I mean, _seriously, _Kei," he snorted disdainfully. "_Shakespeare? _Now how _totally_ old fashioned is _that_?"

Atobe simply raised one eyebrow. "It _was_ rather befitting for the moment."

"Riiiiiight," Ryoma drew out. "But _still_," he insisted, pouting. "Next thing you know, you'll be soliloquizing everything from how incompetent some people are to how scarier Yukimura-san is than Syuu—Fuji-senpai."

Atobe apparently ignored Ryoma's slip, for the young master simply let out a full-blown laugh. "I suppose you'll just have to make sure not to leave me by my lonesome then, ne, Ryo-ma-chan?"

Atobe placed a small affectionate kiss on Ryoma's forehead. Ryoma remained unperturbed, as if it was a common occurrence for the two.

"Che. As if you're ever _alone_. Although, I suppose I could always have Jiroh or your other Hyoutei minions watch you if I ever happened to be out of Saru-sama's reach."

Tezuka sucked a breath in and stuck himself against the wall, his back flat against the cold wooden surface. He ran a shaking hand down his face. He couldn't take it anymore; he felt like a voyeur intruding in a very personal moment.

Forgetting the purpose of why he was in the Bay Wing in the first place, he strode down the hall hurriedly and made his way to his and Fuji's quarters, completely oblivious to some of the stares he was getting from the players lounging for the time being in the Cross Room.

* * *

Kevin sighed, turning over in his bed restlessly. It was quite tiring to live in the same house as the object of one's affection and the persons who were the object of affection of one's object of affection.

He paused.

_Arrrgh! Even _I'm _confusing myself!_

He pulled at his hair quite hard, trying to vent the pent up frustration boiling inside him.

_But it _is _hard to live in one house with Ryoma when Fuji and Tezuka are here to make things more complicated than they have to be. I mean, I understand Keigo, since we've met previously and we know each other's boundaries. But the other two…_

Kevin groaned and buried his face into his clean white pillow, basking in the peace and quiet that he knew was temporary. Sooner or later, someone would come up and disturb his alone time, and it would be pretty much a long draw before he would be able to steal enough time alone again.

The silence remained for more than ten minutes, before the door creaked open and a white head poked in curiously.

"Kevin, you awake?"

Kevin simply grunted in reply, not even bothering to lift his head. He was just too tired of dealing with things inside the crackpot house.

"Up you get, then," bustled Toushi as the older boy—but only about a month or two—brushed into the room. "It's dinnertime."

He sighed inwardly, thanking the gods—whoever they were—for sending Toushi to be his friend. The guy was a blessing, really. Toushi didn't ask whether something was wrong—because he could very well _see_ there _was_ something wrong—and he didn't poke or prod on it until completely necessary or until he brought the topic up himself. But Toushi was always there, waiting, wanting to hear him out, hear what he says.

Wanting to be a good friend.

Kevin sighed, pushing himself off the bed while Toushi chortled at his tousled hair. Kevin smiled slightly.

"Ne, Toushi, I've told you how wonderful a friend you are, haven't I?" Kevin suddenly said out of the blue.

Toushi was silenced. The older teen raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry. "…why the sudden declaration?"

"Nothing," Kevin smiled brightly, shaking his head and recovering his footing. "Nothing at all. Come on, then, what are we waiting for?" he grinned, bouncing up. "We don't want Momoshiro to inhale all the food now, do we?"

Toushi merely chuckled. "If you say so," he muttered, letting himself be dragged around by an overly happy—for some inane reason—Kevin.

* * *

Kevin sank into his seat gracefully, eyeing the food for tonight's dinner. The buzz from the drama earlier this morning was still hanging over the crowd of players, but somehow, the tension seemed less. That in itself provided a little chunk of comfort to flit through Kevin's already troubled countenance, and he welcomed the change heartily, no matter how little. He just hoped dearly that nothing else would try and upset the restored balance of the newly knit relationships they had in this group.

However, as a recomposed Fuji flowed down the stairs regally in a posture of elegance, his hopes were dashed.

He groaned out loud, making Toushi chuckle beside him as he placed his head in his hands. There was _that_ expression on Fuji's face _yet again_.

"Come on, Kev," Toushi admonished. "Eat. Ignore them if you must—even though I _know_ you just can't when Ryoma's involved—but, well, you need your food, and frankly, I think your priority should be your health and not their bickering."

Toushi very well knew that the whole table heard what he said—including Fuji and he wasn't frightened—and he didn't care. What he was saying was true, after all.

Fuji smiled at Toushi as the tensai sat down in his usual place. "You have a brilliant point, Toushi-kun."

"Deshou?" nodded Toushi, brandishing his fork in the air with wide strokes. "I'm such a winner."

Kevin only snorted into his food, bopping Toushi lightly on the back of his head. "Keep on dreaming."

Tezuka followed shortly after Fuji and sat down in his seat in a composed but a rather lifeless manner. Kevin frowned over it, and he saw that the other Seigaku team members did so as well, knowing full well that their captain was not someone who ever behaved _lifelessly_; however some of them brushed it off as stress from the morning's drama.

Kevin knew better, though.

Now that Tezuka and Fuji were down, only Ryoma and Keigo's usual places were vacated. Most of them were wondering if the two were healed enough to come down and have dinner together with the rest of them—they _had_ been told that the two were fine, but it was still better to see with both eyes the real thing—and as such, there was quite a chatter.

"Itadakimaaaaasu(1)," Nanjiroh drew out cheerfully, digging in and going into shovel-food-into-mouth mode. "Hora—_snort_—seishounen-tachi! Dig in—_gulp, munch_—or else I'll—_crunch, munch, munch_—steal everything from ya!"

Momoshiro, of course, didn't need telling twice. The power player dove into his food without further ado, followed shortly by Eiji and Kamio. Kevin snorted as he watched Marui dig into what suspiciously looked like a high-sugar diet especially programmed for him by Renji. He had sweet and sour pork for his dinner, a whole cake for his dessert, and post-dinner snacks consisting of a variety of chocolates and sweets, both foreign and local. He didn't even want to imagine how his teeth would cope if he forgot to brush even just once.

Just then, Keigo sauntered arrogantly into the room, announcing his presence with a flourish as he smirked at the table before sinking into his chair in a manner worthy of a king. A yawning Ryoma followed him, clutching in his arms a yowling and starving Karupin.

Kevin groaned as he felt Fuji stiffen. _Here we go._

"Karupin, shush," Ryoma scolded, silencing the cat effectively as if they understood each other seamlessly. "I'll give you your food later."

"Now, Ryoma, don't starve my precious gift," Keigo said, pulling Ryoma's seat close to his own again and ladling the sweet and sour pork sauce over Ryoma's rice.

"I didn't recall calling for your opinion on my cat's breeding and feeding, Saru-sama," Ryoma bit right back, letting Karupin go and slink under the table. The cat wound its way around the legs under the table and crawled up Kevin's lap.

"Hey, Karupin," Kevin cooed, petting the top of a purring Karupin's head. Karupin was just as attached to Kevin as he was with Ryoma. "You're still as _cuuuuuute_ as ever!" Kevin paused his eating and cuddled with the clean and well-groomed cat for a while, before letting it bundle up in a huge ball of fur on his lap and resuming his dinner.

Fuji blissfully stayed silent throughout dinner, stiffening and gritting his teeth here and there, but refraining from saying anything that might destroy the delicate atmosphere. Tezuka wasn't even paying attention; the captain was acting like a walking zombie. (But of course, that was not obvious to the untrained eye.) The tension in the air was so thick and palpable; Kevin reckoned he could probably slice it and eat it like steak for dinner. He glanced around the table and noticed that everyone was just waiting for something to blow up in their midst.

He sighed. _It won't be long now…_

Dessert came around, and the maids served all sorts of sweets and confectioneries enough to make all their teeth rot. Kevin grimaced as he finished his eighth Rocher ball, before downing his water. He made a mental note to remember brushing his teeth three times over later before gurgling a copious amount of Listerine.

In the corner of his eye, he watched Keigo feed Ryoma alternated Rocher balls and Lindt white chocolate balls, before feeding him a bar of Hershey's Cookies and Cream chocolate, a communal favorite within the training camp. Ryoma, as usual, was basking in the attention and being the pet he was—and he snorted, because he didn't remember giving Ryoma such special treatment since most of the time, it was the other way around—while cradling a snoozing Karupin on his lap.

Fuji sighs.

_Oh, here we go._

"Saa, Ryoma-chan, why don't you sit here instead and give us the opportunity to feed you?" Fuji offered smilingly.

Ryoma didn't even bat an eyelash outside, but Kevin knew that inside, he was itching to go and be Fuji's pet again. Inwardly, Kevin groaned. Somehow, he understood now what Nanjiroh was complaining about earlier when he was ranting about 'overdue hormones' and 'overprotective, possessive boyfriends' and 'teenage drama'.

"Keigo isn't complaining, Fuji-senpai, and I like it when he pampers me," Ryoma shrugged. "I like being pampered. And besides, he wouldn't be feeding me if he didn't want to," he said, turning to Keigo with a Grammy-worthy pout. "You _do_ like feeding me, don't you?"

Keigo chuckled. "Of course, little brat prin_cess_," he snorted, holding out another unwrapped Rocher ball. "Aahh… you're such a pet."

Off to the side, Fuji seethed.

* * *

Kevin groaned.

_This is NOT good. SO not good._

He paced inside his room, the steadily darkening sky in plain view of his open window. The light breeze was peaceful, a complete antithesis of the storm a few days ago. Toushi was humming under his breath, reading a manga while lying on his belly on the bed and sipping off his can of soda.

"Ne, Kevin, stop pacing, it's driving me mad," Toushi blandly stated, eyes not leaving the manga's pages. He turned idly to the next page.

"Shush, I'm thinking."

"Hah, a miracle," Toushi dryly said. "Hurrah."

"Shush, I said!"

Toushi clamped his mouth shut obediently, shrugging as he took another sip from his soda. He loved days like these when there was drama that triggered a postponed or an entirely cancelled day of practice. It meant a whole day of relaxation.

Kevin went back to brooding on his current predicament.

_I don't want to interfere. I _seriously _don't want to interfere._

He mulled his choices in his head.

_But if I don't, this might _never _get fixed, and that would mean a depressed Ryoma for a lifetime! No, I can't have that either!_

He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

_So should I interfere or what? Damn this situation! Why did it have to be so screwed up at this point when it was going so smoothly a week ago?!_

* * *

Keigo sighed, carrying several books in a book bag from the manor's small library collection of European novels. He loved European novels, and since this manor was made especially for him and his whims, he had a chamber-full of them in the North Wing. He left Ryoma inside the room, preoccupied with grooming, feeding, and playing with his verily missed Himalayan cat.

He assumed Ryoma would be fine tomorrow morning, but one could never be so sure. Just in case, he wanted to keep Ryoma confined in bed with a good night's rest in front of him. The young one was still sick, even though the flu was receding from the body already.

He walked steadily towards the Cross Room, and was about to heft the weight of his bag to his other hand, when he was suddenly accosted and pushed against the cypress walls, startling him effectively and making him drop the book bag he was carrying.

"What the—?"

"_Why_ are you taking Ryoma away from us?!" a distinctly icy voice came.

Keigo narrowed his eyes and rotated his head with great difficulty—his chest was pressed against the wall, and a hand was holding his head to the side so that his cheek was flat against the wall as well—and came face to face with Fuji.

He had to admit, he was _impressed_. He didn't know Fuji had the strength in that slight, feminine frame to bodily pin him against a wall and provide enough resistance to _keep_ him pinned against the said wall. It seemed the tensai did his share of muscle workout as well.

He snarled. "I'm not—" he choked out, trying to get enough air to speak. "I'm not _taking him away—_Fuji!"

"Then what the FUCKING HELL do you think you're FUCKING DOING, keeping him away from us?!"

"He's—the one who doesn't want—anything to do wi—th you right now, moron!" Keigo scathingly threw back, struggling against Fuji's considerably tight grip on his arms and the weight pressing against his chest. (If this really wasn't an impasse and emotionally loaded situation, he would've thought the position comical and quite… compromising.)

"And just _why_ would that _be?_" hissed Fuji aggressively.

"Because—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" another voice roared from the direction of the Cross Room. Kevin's lithe, light figure jogged up to them and growled as he tried to pry them apart with great difficulty, as both were struggling to land at least one bodily hit at the other. "That's ENOUGH, you pair of fucking losers!"

_And here I said I wasn't going to interfere._

With a great feral snarl, Kevin ripped the two of them apart from each other, Keigo stumbling on his books scattered on the corridor's floor.

"You two," Kevin breathed heavily. "You two are the _most immature_ people I have _ever met_!" he snapped bitingly at the both of them. "Can't you _fucking_ deal with this matter like _grown-ups_ and TALK to each other peacefully?!"

"How can I _fucking_ talk when the one I want to _talk_ to is fucking _avoiding_ me?!" Fuji bit back hotly, as if challenging Kevin.

"Well, _Mr. Genius_, you have to WAIT until Ryoma is READY to talk to you _and_ Tezuka!" Kevin threw back. "And right now he isn't!"

"This would be _much_ easier if you'd just tell me why the hell he's mad at us in the first place," Fuji snarled.

"I thought you were the genius, _figure it out_!" Keigo shot back. "It's as plain as day!"

"Keigo!" admonished Kevin. "If you tell them, Ryoma will get mad at you too. Ryoma trusts you to keep his secrets. Don't betray that trust."

Keigo hissed, as if wounded. "I wasn't planning to."

"But you just might have."

"This is hopeless," Fuji muttered under his breath, still fuming as he stalked off towards the Cross Room, evidently heading for his quarters.

And with that, Kevin and Keigo were both left staring at each other in the setting sunlight, uncertainty flowing off the two of them in waves.

This was getting rockier by the minute.

* * *

Ryoma sighed, closing the oak doors of Keigo's spacious chambers behind his back silently and letting himself into the darkened corridors. Keigo was being a pain in the ass more than what was really necessary, and he needed a break. The monkey king was going overprotective mode on him again, and while he appreciated the—obviously over excessive—concern, it didn't mean that he had to like it one bit. He didn't like it years ago when they were young and he didn't like it now that they were older.

It was rather annoying, to say the least.

He sighed again, treading towards the Cross Room. He knew that he was too young to be sighing this deeply already—as if he had the world on his shoulders, which he probably did—but he couldn't find any other thing to do, nor to say. It was tiring, the predicament he was in. Haggling in between Fuji and Keigo was as tiring as hell, and seeing Tezuka as dead as any corpse six feet under placed even heavier load on his already laden shoulders.

He groaned, banging his head against the wall lightly.

His flu was gone, but Keigo insisted that he wore layers until the remaining coughs were gone. He wanted to go out into the beach and get some fresh air, and he was lucky Keigo was half-preoccupied in his book—another Shakespeare saga, he would bet—to completely register the fact that he had just let his 'sick pet' get out of his sight.

Ryoma was about to walk on with a sigh, when he heard voices from inside Tezuka's supposed room, the one that was connected to his. Nanjiroh had given the green light, and they were all able to go back to previous sleeping arrangements. It was just for less than a day.

"…still don't understand why he's mad at us, Mitsu," sighed a voice, clearly Fuji. "I'm really confused here."

Another sigh, probably from Tezuka this time.

"One moment, he's with us," Fuji muttered. "But the next moment, he's off with '_Keigo_'—" he spat the name like a curse with such violent loathing, "—and he's ignoring us! What did we do wrong?!"

"Syuusuke…" muttered Tezuka.

"What?!"

"Syuusuke, maybe it's better if we stopped this already," Tezuka reasoned. "This is upending the balance of the team, really. The Regionals is right around the corner. We need to set our priorities right. And we're pressuring Ryoma this way. Maybe… maybe it's better if we left him to his devices for a while. It seems he's happy with Atobe anyhow."

"How can you be so _sure_ he is?!"

"I can see it."

There was a rustling, and Ryoma was tempted to peek inside. The door was slightly ajar, and he inched closer towards the slither of light coming from inside the room, squinting his eyes to see into the small slit.

Tezuka was holding a distraught Fuji against his chest, a hand on top of the kempt brown hair and another on the feminine-shaped back. "Let's just leave Ryoma alone for now."

"Are we giving up?" Fuji muttered. "I don't want to. Ryoma-chan's precious."

"But he won't let us in yet. Let's wait when he's ready."

Ryoma took a deep, shuddering breath, and walked away, pushing his legs to move and move and move. One step, another step. One step, another step.

He wanted so much to go back into those pairs of arms which would enclose him in warmth like a cocoon. He wanted it _so much_.

But he had to steel himself. He had to show Tezuka and Fuji how seriously he was taking this budding relationship, and that if honesty wasn't valued, he'd rather have nothing at all.

One step, another step.

_In the end, you're right, aren't you, oyaji? What you told me when I was little, I still remember._

Ryoma blindly strode down the regal staircase and out into the twilight, sprinting towards the beach and clutching his knit jacket around him tighter.

_This is the way we must take life's challenges. One step, another step. One step at a time. One step to make them realize how serious I am, one step to tell them that I'd rather have someone who'd trust me and one I would trust than someone who would not. One step to overcome each challenge._

A tear rolled down his cheek.

_Demo ne, oyaji… _

He crouched down.

…_does each step always hurt this much?_

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Wow. Finished all that in one day. ALL of it. (Aventria: Even the nitpicking. Be awed by our prowess.)

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria  
**_First Publication:_ 02.20.07  
_First Revision Version:_ 02.20.07


	19. Step Nineteen: From the Outside

******One Step**

Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Right. The last chapter lacked reviews. I'm guessing because it's an Atobe/Ryoma? Oh, come _on_, people, I _said_ this fic is a TezuRyoFuji. Have some faith! After all, what is a story without its conflicts, deshou?

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s): **Angst, people.

* * *

**Step Nineteen: From the Outside, Looking In**

* * *

Keigo paced by the backyard porch's double stained glass doors, which were thrown wide open to the sea breeze whipping into the small lobby that was currently occupied by the scattered players resting and lounging the day away. He sighed and placed a hand to his forehead in worry, clucking his tongue in worry of what was happening this time around.

"Kei-chan, he won't come back any sooner even if you burn a hole through the floor with your pacing, you know," Jiroh yawned, arching his back like a cat before snuggling back against the sofa bed. "So just come here and try redirecting your strength to thinking where he might have gone off to."

"Sounds like a plan," snorted Gakuto. "Only he's not exactly listening to you, Jiroh."

Jiroh simply rolled his eyes skyward, before closing his eyes and falling back into his slumber.

Keigo once again checked the five-hundred dollar Rolex wrist watch he was wearing, before redirecting his gaze towards the empty beach. _Three hours, fifty-one minutes, thirty-seven seconds. And counting. _

"Where…" He frowned. "Where could he have gone…?"

* * *

_Flashback_

_Keigo sighed and snapped his hardbound book shut, having finished five long chapters in record time. He reclined his head against the red sofa's headrest, closing his eyes and trying to picture what he was reading more clearly. It was all so romantic, Shakespeare's plays. Romantic, yet tragic. _

_He snorted. _Ryoma will kill me if he sees me going all 'cheesy' again…

_With the young prodigy's name crossing his mind, he opened his eyes and righted his head. He looked at the bed, expecting a peacefully slumbering Ryoma on it, curled around his precious Himalayan cat— _

_"Meeeeeeeeeeoooooooowr!" _

_—only to find a Karupin yowling wildly on the bed—how he was deaf to it for more than an hour was a mystery to behold—and thrashing around, searching for his missing master. _

_"What the…?" he muttered, placing his book on the bedside table and catching the flailing cat, before struggling to calm it by petting and cuddling. It worked, and the cat purred, snuggling into his hand. "Ryoma?" _

_He stood and walked to the bathing chambers, still carrying the happily purring cat in his arms. He walked into the chambers gracefully, looking right and left, searching for any telltale clue of where his sick pet was. _

Well, definitely not here,_ he thought. There was neither shadow nor hide of Ryoma inside the chambers. He frowned worriedly; he didn't like having a sick and close-to-hysterical Ryoma out of his sight. It just wasn't healthy. _

_He briskly strode out of the chambers, set on finding his charge. Depositing the now-placated cat in the middle of the pillows and making sure that the cat was comfortably furrowed in—for Ryoma would castrate him if he mistreated it—he walked out of his rooms and made a beeline for Ryoma's old suite down the hall. He pushed it open. No Ryoma. _

_He sighed, shaking his head. He went to the next door and raised his fist to knock, but hesitated. _

_There were certainly occupants inside the room; that much he was certain. The voices carried through the door. But he wasn't sure on how to approach the situation. _

_For a moment, he paused, but then shook himself and sighed. This was concerning Ryoma, and concerning Ryoma meant nothing was impossible. He knocked. _

_There was a pause, before _ _Fuji__'s muffled voice came. "Who is it?" _

_"Atobe," Keigo said simply, placing his hands into his pockets and stepping away from the door, waiting politely for Tezuka and/or _ _Fuji__ to open the door. _

_There was another pause, before shuffling could be heard from the other side. He sighed, making a mental note to improve the soundproofing of the rooms later on. He wouldn't want to hear the 'miracles' going on inside them, now, did he? _

_The door swung open slowly, revealing a slightly vexed _ _Fuji__, and a neutral Tezuka. Both looked considerably presentable. _

_Resisting the urge to poke fun at the couple, he went straight to the point. "Have you seen Ryo?" _

_"Ryo?" Tezuka repeated unintelligibly. _

_"Ryoma," Keigo supplied, having the grace to look apologetic. Slightly so. _

_"No, why?" Fuji answered quickly, all trace of vexation replaced by common worry shared by Atobe. _

_"I'll admit this is my fault this time," Keigo sighed, running a hand through his hair, blaming himself uncharacteristically. Well, he was uncharacteristic already, so what the heck? "I was too far gone into my reading that I did not even notice he was gone. He _did_ mention that he wanted a walk outside earlier, though. I'm simply perplexed why he isn't back yet." _

_"Have you checked your entire chambers?" Tezuka asked worriedly, letting himself and _ _Fuji__ out of the rooms and following as the three of them strode down the Bay Wing's halls. _

_"I have," nodded Keigo, suppressing another urge to be sarcastic. "He's neither in his rooms or mine." _

_Fuji__ let out a colorful string of curses under his breath. "Around what time did you last see him?" _

_"An hour or two ago, give or take," Keigo answered briefly, for the moment forgetting the animosity standing between him and _ _Fuji_

_"We didn't do anything to anger him again, did we?" _ _Fuji__ muttered worriedly in a _very_ un-Fuji-like small voice. _

_Keigo sighed, stopping in his tracks. "Look here," he said, staring _ _Fuji__ straight in the eye to show his sincerity and exhaustion. "I'll be honest with you. I have absolutely _no_ intention whatsoever of stealing Ryoma from you. He was the one who moved away. And though it is not entirely my secret to tell, I'll still tell you that Ryoma moved away from you because he found a reason to believe that you two did something that made him lose trust." _

_"I just want you to think that over and figure it out. I assure you, if Ryoma goes back to you again, I will _not_ hold him back. I already have Jiroh, and I'm quite faithful, thanks. Don't make this harder on him by picking on _me_. Figure it out with him, because it pains me to see him suffering too."_

_Fuji and Tezuka simply regarded him silently for a while, before nodding acquiescently. What else could they have done? They would never have thought that the spoiled master would announce his feelings like this. Keigo sighed and nodded, before motioning towards the Cross Room. "Let's get moving, then. Ryoma could be anywhere. Knowing that little brat, he'll be somewhere hard to find." _

_The three moved quickly into the Cross Room and down the staircase, startling a small group of players—the Rikkai bunch—who were huddling and snacking in the common room as they descended. _

_Yukimura smiled. "Well, it seems the rift is temporarily healed." _

_"Hopefully so, Yukimura," nodded Keigo, quickly shifting topics. "Have you seen Ryoma?" _

_Yukimura's smile dwindled, a crease of worry appearing. Apparently, the young pet in question had grown into him as well. "No, not at all. I just came from my quarters with Genichirou and Akaya. Is there something the matter?" _

_"He's missing," _ _Fuji__ supplied, before striding into the small kitchen adjacent to the common room and calling out Ryoma's name gently. He came back out a few seconds afterwards. "Not here." _

_Just then, Momoshiro, Kaidoh, Kamio, Asuka, Shinichi, Kevin, and Toushi emerged from the short, wide corridor leading to the lobby that opened to the backyard beach. Tezuka turned towards them. "Has any of you seen Ryoma?" _

_Kevin's head snapped forward at Ryoma's name. "Yes, in fact, I have," nodded Kevin, frowning. "Why?" _

_"Where is he?" asked _ _Fuji__ and Keigo at the same time, and quite aggressively. _

_Kevin raised both hands in surrender. "I saw him walking down the beach earlier, but I didn't approach him. He was a bit on edge, and you know him, he needs time alone, especially when he's in one of_ those moods_," he quickly explained, to Keigo mostly, because only the Atobe heir understood fully to where he was getting at. "Afterwards, I went to the courts with these guys and played some, and when we came back, he wasn't there any longer." _

_"How long ago was this?" asked Genichirou, now concerned as well. _

_"About…" muttered Kevin. "About an hour ago, give or take. Why?" _

_"He hasn't come back yet," Keigo muttered in worry. "God, Ryoma gets _lost_ easily!" he grumbled in frustration. _

_"Oh no, the woods," gasped Kevin, his eyes widening. "It can't be a repeat! He gets lost in woods!" _

_"A repeat?" echoed Kirihara. _

_"Woods?" Momoshiro repeated. _

_"Once, when we were kids, Ryoma and I got lost in the woods," Keigo murmured absentmindedly, as if talking to himself, rather than addressing the group. "Not a very pleasant experience, considering there was a storm back then too. Ryoma has no sense of direction when inside the woods." _

_"I forbid you all from going out to search," Nanjiroh's voice coming from the top of the stairs, ignoring the protests that immediately echoed from all the players gathered. "I said I _forbid!_ You don't know your way around the woods in this area. Might I remind you just how far we are from the town proper? It's quite a stretch of foliage, dear boys. It's already nearing dark and I don't want _more_ people lost." _

_"But—!" _

_"Kevin, I said no." _

_"But Ryoma—" _

_"—will be found," Nanjiroh cut off, arriving at the landing of the staircase with a small hop. "But _not_ by you. I'm sure Keigo can send out search parties."_

* * *

And that was how they all landed in their situation.

Though Oshitari had initially pointed out that Keigo himself could go out and join the search party, the meticulous worrywart complained that he didn't want to miss Ryoma if in case he did come back later on in the deepening evening.

However, it's been three hours—almost four—and counting; there's been no sign of Ryoma whatsoever.

Keigo hissed in worry.

Nanjiroh muttered from his small corner by the steps leading down to the paved stone path that led to the beach, sighing as he kept his eyes peeled for his youngest. "It's not like Ryoma to disappear and cause a stir like this."

_That's right, it's not like him to disappear and cause trou—_

Keigo paused in his pacing abruptly, freezing. _Disappear… cause a stir…?_

A light bulb practically went off over his head, and he scrambled for his beach slippers, before running out towards the beach, ignoring the startled calls of his teammates and housemates behind him.

Nanjiroh chortled. "Maa ii ka. Let him be, let him be," he waved off, stretching his back. "Keigo will find Ryoma wherever he ends up anyways."

Tachibana raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, sensei?"

Oshitari snapped his fingers. "Ohh, yes, that's right. Atobe would always volunteer to find Ryoma whenever the boy disappears during those formal functions we used to attend when we were kids!"

"Yes, and he manages to bring back the naughty little monster back sooner or later," Nanjiroh chuckled. "'Taku, I still don't know how he does that. He either has some sort of Ryoma-radar that goes off sooner or later when the boy is lost or they have their little secret hiding places somewhere to meet up when they get too bored."

* * *

Keigo scaled the craggy cliff face from below, looking up at the well-placed ledges that formed quasi-steps towards a dark mouth of a shallow cave. He tried the first few ledges, nudging and moving them to see if they would hold his weight. Satisfied that they were strong enough, he started climbing to the cave's mouth. Sometimes, when the waves were high on this part of the island, the water would reach up into the cave. It was a mere six feet up, though. Not much, but still pretty high and seemingly inaccessible for a toddler.

Well, not for him and Ryoma, apparently.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Little Ryoma pouted, tugging at his uncomfortably tight tie and squirming in his suit. They were in _ _Japan__ for a summer vacation with the Atobes, and it was a _stiflingly_ hot summer __noon__. People milled around the opened and arranged back gardens of the Atobe family's new Odaiba manor. The sun was beating down on the guests, and a mixed array of skin tones basked in the sweltering hot sun. _

_Americans. Africans, Middle-Easterners, Europeans, Russians, Asians; name it, and you will find it. _

_It was a hodgepodge of rich, socially-prominent guests from all around the world. The main goal of the party was to socialize, to form new and strengthen existing bonds beneficial for business. It didn't matter what part of society one was prominent in; media, sports (which was his father's reason for being invited), business, politics—all of it. _

_And it was as pointless as hell for a poor, uncomfortable Ryoma. _

_"Ryoma!" scolded an annoyingly superior-sounding voice behind him. "One does not… _squirm_ in a Prada suit!" _

_Ryoma sighed and rolled his eyes. "Urusai," he grumbled darkly, scratching his neck where the collar was scraping against his already red and irritated skin. And it wasn't only his skin that was irritated. _

_"Ryooooma!" Keigo scolded again as the eight-year-old tried to rearrange—or more like _un-_arrange—his collar. Keigo slapped his hand away and fixed the collar. "Don't do that." _

_"But—" _

_"Ryoma." _

_"But—" _

_"Ryoma!" _

_Ryoma, completely stumped by the ten-year-old Keigo, let out a long, pitiful whine, complete with a pleading look worthy of an abandoned kitten. "Kei-chan, please?" he whimpered, leaning against Keigo and stomping his feet childishly. "I'm tired of the party! Let's go somewhere else. Please?" he asked in a small, pleading voice; a voice Keigo _never_ managed to resist. And Ryoma knew it. _

_Oh, sure, Keigo put up a valiant fight every time he used it, but ended up losing. _

_After a few minutes of silence, Keigo heaved a heavy sigh. "Oh, _fine_, brat," grumbled Keigo. "Be thankful I love you as much as I do," he added under his breath, just loud enough for Ryoma to hear. Ryoma smiled widely and gave Keigo a huge hug, before taking the elder boy's hand and pulling him off towards the beach. _

_It was all in all a very beautiful day, if not counting the pounding heat of the summer sun. The sky was startlingly blue, and had a few clouds drifting here and there, though their wisps were still not enough to block out the sun's heat. The waves were lapping peacefully against the shore, and breeze was cool silk caressing their skin, relieving them momentarily from the heat of the sun. _

_Ryoma immediately kicked off his shoes by the steps leading up to the beach, quickly undoing his tie and removing his suit's jacket to reveal the much thinner, much penetrable white long-sleeved polo shirt underneath. He grinned and made for the beach, lunging forward, but Keigo pulled him back by his arm. _

_"Matte, ne," Keigo scolded as he removed his own tie and jacket. "You're going to ruin your pants." _

_With that, Keigo knelt down and rolled up Ryoma's pants up to the knees, before removing his own shoes and rolling up his own pants. _

_"Come on, Keiiiiiiiiiiii!" Ryoma gleefully laughed, hauling a totally unbalanced Keigo behind him. Keigo stumbled after the hyperactive young boy that was, until a few moments ago, grumpy and unmotivated. Funny how much one could change in a mere minute. _

_"Ryoma, my arm!" Keigo called, trying to pry his already-aching arm away from Ryoma. Ryoma let go of it immediately, and soon after the young eight-year-old was off running around by the waves, splashing on the water and getting himself wet, playing with the sand, and picking up shells with vigor. Keigo chuckled, watching from beside the waves, trying not to get his own suit wet. _

_Well, his efforts were valiant, but in vain. He should have known better, really. Especially with Ryoma as his best friend. _

_Ryoma suddenly came up and started splashing him with seawater. Apparently the young one thought it was fun to get an expensive Prada suit—_**his**_ expensive Prada suit—wet and to get one hell of a scolding afterwards. Of course, not to be undone nor be penalized for the crime he hasn't yet committed, Keigo pitched in; soon enough, the two of them were soaked, sand-covered, and breathless from the playful exercise. Their mixed laughter echoed through the considerably empty beach, and the two of them collapsed on the sand on their backs, staring up at the blue, blue sky. _

_"See?" Ryoma began breathlessly, still trying to catch up with his lungs. "This is much more fun than standing inside with all the people and the party." _

_"I will say nothing to incriminate myself in public," Keigo said haughtily—making the younger snort— while throwing his arm over his forehead and blocking out the blinding sun's rays. He didn't want his eyes damaged; he was far too young for that. _

_"A monkey will always imcrimimate himself," Ryoma retorted back to an amused Keigo. _

_"Do you even know what "incriminate" means?" Keigo fought hard to hide his amusement but his voice reflected his laughter. It was just seriously too cute._

___"Of course I do," Ryoma answered with such innocent arrogance that only Echizen Ryoma was able to achieve. "It's when Karupin finds those magazines oyaji hides from 'kaa-san and 'kaa-san always tells him to 'stop imcrimimating the cat.'" _

___The uncontrolled laughter he was trying to desperately rein in finally spilled out of Keigo's mouth, earning him a disgruntled grunt from the younger boy. He wasn't sure if Ryoma understood the full implication of his words but it was still as funny as hell. He would need to follow Karupin sometime to search for those hidden magazines. Blackmail material, especially for Nanjiroh, has more worth than the chocolate cake Rinko-baa-san makes. Well, actually they were worth about the same. _

___Keigo's laughter finally subsided to chuckles, enough for him to speak once again. "Ryo, don't ever change." _

___Ryoma snorted. "Of course not. I won't ever give up tennis even if a monkey king beats me." _

___"I'll hold you to that, brat." _

___"Che." _

___There was companionable silence between the now-seasoned friends of two years, and nothing was heard but the whistling wind, the lapping waves, and the distant, faint laughter coming from the manor quite a distance away from them. Ryoma silently turned his head towards the far side of the beach, where it ended by a cliff face that completely sealed the neighboring beaches off, as if sealing this sole five-kilometer beach strip off on its own. _

___He squinted his eyes against the sunlight, shading them with his small hand as he tried to see the cliff face clearly. _

___"Ryo? What're you doing?" _

___"Ne, what's that over there?" asked Ryoma, pointing towards the cliff face as he resumed a sitting position. _

___Keigo groaned. "Oh no, Ryoma," Keigo said, mortified as he shook his head. "No, no, no. Remember where this landed us last time?" _

___Ryoma shot him a sharp glare that was completely uncharacteristic of a child, before returning his gaze towards the cliff face. He squinted for a few moments, before snapping his fingers. "I think it's a cave." _

___Keigo groaned exasperatedly, shaking his head. _

___"Come on, Kei!!" Ryoma excitedly bounced, tugging and pulling on Keigo's arm, practically hauling the older, larger boy behind him. Keigo sighed in exasperation, recognizing the all-too-familiar look of enamored curiosity on Ryoma's face. _

_I pray to God we won't get lost this time around__, Keigo prayed silently as he caught up with the trotting Ryoma. _

___As soon as they got to the craggy, ledged cliff face, Ryoma whistled as he looked up. "It _is_ a cave!!" _

___Keigo shook his head ruefully, half-annoyed and half-impressed with Ryoma's endless curiosity and energy. The young monster never ran out of battery, it seemed. Before he knew it, he and Ryoma were scaling the six-foot climb quickly to reach the cave's mouth. He waited for Ryoma to get solid footing inside the cave, before following suit and heaving himself up onto the cave landing. _

___He looked around as he subconsciously smoothed his clothes and rearranged his disheveled hair—the breeze was an abomination for him—and found that it was a rather shallow yet dark and dingy cave. There were ledges and a large wall of some sort on one side, leaving a small opening like a doorway for someone to get through. As they padded into the cave, they noted that the floor was dry and warm—indication that the sunlight made it in—and it was surprisingly _clean

___Ryoma slunk into the cave, walking to the wall and slipping through the 'doorway'. "Cool! It's like a secret room!" _

___Keigo rolled his eyes. True, from outside, the wall looked as if it was the end of the cave, since a protruding lateral ledge half-covered the 'doorway'. But when inside, one could clearly see that there was a big enough hole. _

___Keigo followed after Ryoma when he started hearing the rolling of little stones and bigger stones seemingly scraping against each other. For a moment there, he was afraid that the cave would collapse. But the cave wasn't shaking, and everything looked steady, so Ryoma must have been doing something. _

___"Ryoma? What are you do—" _

___Then there was a stream of light from inside the small 'room' inside the cave. "Yatta! There's a small window thingie here, Kei! It was blocked by some stoned, but I managed to get them out! Kei!" _

___"Alright, I'm there," Keigo answered, walking towards the 'room' and into the sunlight once again. Indeed, there was a window at least a square-foot, and there were a pile of stones on Ryoma's feet. There was a small boulder off to one side of the 'room'—ideal as a stool—and there was a somehow flat surface on another side, as if somebody used that as sleeping surface before. "I wonder if someone lived here before. It sure would explain these." _

___"Sou ne," nodded Ryoma as he started throwing the rocks out of the window one by one. "This is so coooool! We can use this as a secret hideout! We'd never have to go to those hideous parties again, ever!" _

___Keigo sweated, tempted right that moment to scratch his head. Sometimes, his young charge was simply impossible. It got annoying at some times—well, okay, MOST of the time—but well, he _did_ love Ryoma after all. He sighed, slapping himself mentally. He was so ass-whipped. He wondered if this was what Nan-ji-chan felt like. _

___"Right!" Ryoma exclaimed, punching the air. "This cave will be our secret place!" _

___Keigo's eyebrows went up to his hairline. _

Well… secret place does sound good…

___And that was the start of their series of rendezvous in their 'secret place'._

* * *

"Ryoma…?" he called out. He stepped into the cave, careful not to hit his head on one of the protruding ledges. "Are you here?"

There was silence.

Keigo strained his ears over the din the crashing waves were making, trying to hear if there were telltale scuffling sounds in the room. He sighed as he heard several stones roll and hit each other.

"Ryo, stop hiding from me," Keigo sighed, striding—albeit carefully—into the small cave's room. He sighed as he saw the small shaking frame by the corner, crying his heart out in the darkness, all alone. "What is it this time around?" murmured Keigo, moving to take his charge into his arms carefully.

Instinctively, Ryoma clutched onto him, pressing his face against the elder's chest and continuing to cry. Keigo simply shook his head and took the smaller frame into his arms, rocking them back and forth slowly as they basked in each other's presence in the dark dampness of their secret haven.

"Oh Ryoma…"

* * *

Kevin sighed, banging his head against the wall. Behind him on the bed, Toushi chuckled heartily, watching him make a total fool of himself as he struggled to pull away from his frustrations and calm himself down. Right now, he was incredibly, incredibly jealous of Keigo. He groaned.

First it was Fuji and Tezuka. Now, it's Keigo?

"It's because you want to be able to comfort Ryoma too," Toushi explained, as if hearing his mental groan. Kevin looked at him with a weird expression on his face, and Toushi snorted. "I can read what you're thinking from a mile away, Kevin. Your face shows it all."

Kevin groaned out loud this time, banging his head against the wall even harder.

"You know, your neurons are dying in there," Toushi pointed out blandly.

"Neurons die all the time, Tou," Kevin mumbled, just audibly enough.

"Try taking a walk out, Kev," sighed Toushi. "It'll cool you off. I'll go out later too. You go ahead, ne? I'll call you and let's meet outside. It's our night off today, since it's the Regionals tomorrow. We can go and look at the new tennis sports gear in that store we passed by earlier."

"Yeah, sure," muttered Kevin, pulling his jacket on, snatching his red phone and wallet, and heading for the door. "See you."

Kevin sighed as he went out the door, making a mental note to apologize to Toushi later for his uncalled for behavior. Toushi had nothing to do with it, and he was a very good friend; he didn't deserve the silent/grumpy treatment. Yes, Kevin would apologize later when his head was cooler. And he'd buy him a gift, yeah.

He walked down the hallways, looking out the window and noting the late afternoon light that was dimming slowly. Ryoma had arrived safe and sound about an hour ago, with Keigo gingerly—almost lovingly—carrying a passed out exhausted, yet tightly clinging Ryoma. One look was all that was needed to clear the way to the stairs and to vacate the Bay Wing yet again under Nanjiroh's command. He didn't even the chance to see his best friend; Keigo's chambers were locked and closed off to the world.

And now, he was desperately depressed.

He sighed as he moved into the Cross Room, and looked up at the only occupant in the area. "Ryoma…? What…"

"Kevin," Ryoma muttered, smiling slightly. "Hey."

"Are you alright, Ryoma?" Kevin bustled, rushing over to Ryoma and almost dropping his phone and wallet—which were still in his hands—in the process. "Are you injured, or sick? Are you sure you're okay? Do you want anything? Food, drink?"

Ryoma snapped.

"**Damn it, Kevin, stop that!**" he snarled in reflexive English, effectively silencing Kevin. "**I don't need a fucking babysitter—I need someone who can understand me, for fuck's sake! Can't you get that through your fucking brain?**"

Kevin was stumped into silence.

"**All of you people keep on ****babying**** me, when that's not really what I need! I need someone to ****talk**** to!**" he went on, gripping the small sofa he was cushioned in as he tensed up. "**I'm not a baby—I can stand up on my own feet! I'm not an invalid! I ****feel ****too, just like all of you! Don't fucking treat me differently!**" he continued, his tirade growing louder by the second. Surely, by now, he should have been attracting attention already, but he figured the others were being polite and were leaving them alone. "**I'm fucking tired of this. Everyone tells me they want me and love me, but no one acts on it! Even you—**"

Slap!

The startlingly sharp sound of the back of Kevin's hand hitting Ryoma's cheek could be sworn echoing through the manor's halls, silencing anything and everything moving inside.

Ryoma's eyes widened.

Kevin had never hurt him. Kevin was the gentlest person in the world. He was careful when handling Ryoma, as if handling a porcelain vase. He had never ever raised his hand to strike Ryoma in any occasion, even during tennis. Kevin had never hurt him ever before.

Until now.

"Kevin…?"

"**You're a fucking selfish brat, you know that?**" Kevin uttered in English, his voice a mere notch above a whisper. Kevin, when furious, didn't yell. He held silent, yet disturbingly great fury. When he was angry, sure, he would yell, but when he was beyond that, he would lower his voice into a deathly, hollow whisper. "**You are a spoiled, selfish, ignorant brat, Ryoma. All of us are HERE, waiting for YOU, waiting for some sort of ****clue**** as to why you are acting this way, what you need, what you want! We are all ****here**** at ****your**** disposal, oh mighty Prince! Get out of your dark hole and walk into the sunlight—all of us are HERE waiting for YOU!**"

"**And you know what? I'm fucking tired of this**," Kevin snarled. "**I'm fucking tired of standing here, waiting for you to make a move. I'm fucking tired of waiting on you every time, of worrying countless times because you ****never**** listen to me when I warn you. I'm tired of being a shock-absorber because you keep on rushing headlong into things and end up getting hurt every time. I'm tired of being the one who gives all the time, Ryoma! Atobe might be able to stand it but I can't anymore! This ****friendship**** we have won't work with this… this ****arrangement!**"

"**I'm tired of being ignored, Ryoma. Tired, ****so fucking ****tired of being ignored all the time. And here you say NO ONE loves you? How DARE you say that! What do you think I'm here for?! Why do you think I stay beside all the time, huh, Ryoma? I fucking ****LOVE YOU, ****and I've done so for the past two years! And you were all oblivious and ignored all my hints, and even went as far as ignoring me as your best friend these past few days! Wake UP, Ryoma! The world doesn't revolve around YOU!**"

Kevin lifted the red phone and tugged the phone strap off haphazardly, hearing the snap that indicated the string had snapped. "**And that?**" Kevin hissed, thrusting the strap towards Ryoma, who caught it with both hands, too shocked to react any further. "**Give that back to me when you've finally decided to stop being such a hopeless, idiotic brat.**"

Leaving a shell-shocked Ryoma gaping behind him, Kevin stormed off with furious tears in his eyes, making a straight beeline towards the manor's Welcome Hall.

Toushi was right. He needed a breather.

* * *

Toushi sighed, leaning against the wall that was behind him. He was hidden behind a huge ceiling-to-floor tapestry in the hallway. Having heard the seriously scathing row between the two best friends just moments ago, he couldn't help but feel sorry for both of them. This was hell for both of them, and they were both hurting themselves unwittingly by doing this. They were both being inimitably stupid.

He was just about to leave and go outside just as he had planned, but he had walked in on Ryoma going at it on Kevin. Having lived in New York for a brief time during his childhood allowed him to become very proficient in English; he completely understood everything that was said back there. This time, though, he wished he hadn't. It was too painful.

Toushi grimaced, stepping out from behind the tapestry as he saw Ryoma walking back to the Bay Wing—presumably to lounge inside Keigo's quarters again—before rubbing his forehead.

_Now to be the faithful friend and search for the distraught Kevin._

* * *

Kevin sighed, dipping his head low as he sat on one of the nearby park's benches. He was mad at himself, mad at Ryoma, mad at the world for fucking the two of them up. Their relationship was solid and smooth before all this fiasco! Even if it was just friendship, plain friendship, it was strong and solid. 

What had happened to bring this on?

He didn't know.

All he knew was that Ryoma slowly withdrew from him, and that it slowly crumbled to the ground. It slowly disintegrated, ever since Ryoma came back here. Was their friendship as feeble as that—crumbling after just a few hurdles?

He groaned.

He didn't know.

He didn't know anything anymore. It was all so confusing for him.

But that was uncalled for, the things I said to Ryoma, he thought, fiddling with his now-strapless red phone. None of them were true… well, ok, I was tired of being ignored, but still, I don't have any right to blow up on him like that… do I?

He sighed, burying his head in his palms. This was all so confusing.

_What can I do to make it up to him…?_

Apologies wouldn't cut it. Begging wouldn't either. Ryoma hated trading and bargaining for things that involved emotions like these. Bribing was out of the question. Giving a gift was— snort the same as bribing

Kevin's head snapped up.

—a brilliant idea.

The blonde jumped up from the park bench and rushed towards the nearby expensive jewelry store he had passed by the other day.

_That item is _perfect.

* * *

Toushi sighed, dragging himself around the Odaiba downtown district's parks, malls, and restaurants—to any place that Kevin might hang out at. He couldn't find the blonde, and he was starting to get frustrated. They were only supposed to be a few minutes apart, but it seems Kevin ran off—literally—to some mundane location where he would be hard to find. It was all so annoying when all he wanted was to find and cheer up the blonde—at least even just temporarily.

Normally, Kevin would be definitely easy to spot—the naturally blonde head stood out in the mass of blacks and browns. But right now, he could see no blondes in the—

Toushi flitted his eyes back to that one store he passed earlier.

Scratch that.

There was a blonde in the vicinity.

As Toushi caught a glimpse of the whipping tennis jacket with Seigaku's colors and logo, he smiled.

_There you are._

* * *

Kevin scanned the jewelries for the necklace he had seen displayed on the store's main window stands the other day, hoping desperately that it wasn't sold out yet. It was just about the only gift he could even think of giving Ryoma. And knowing Ryoma, he would accept no less.

He fiddled with his phone, and scanned the second to the last row of the silver pendants, before his eyes landed on a kitten-shaped pendant with tiger eyes stones as eyes. The tiger eyes stones were well-shaped and polished, glinting in the light as if the cat were alive. It gave the cat a mischievously naughty yet adorable 'love-me' look.

He giggled.

_That is SO Ryoma!_

"Is there anything I could help you with, sir?" asked the saleslady, approaching him after seeing that something caught his eye.

Kevin smiled up at the lady—effectively making her swoon—and nodded. "I'd like this kitten pendant, please, the one with the tiger eyes stones."

"O-Of course, right away, sir," smiled the lady, blushing.

Kevin inwardly praised himself._ Hah! I haven't lost my touch yet! Take that Fuji, Keigo!_

He patiently waited for the lady to fish out the pendant. He ran his eyes over it as he held it experimentally in his hands, inspecting for unseen damages or scratches that might jeopardize the prize of the pendant. He wasn't about to buy something this expensive to find out that he was doped; he wasn't as readily trusting as Ryoma was. (And he also knew how to conserve money even if he had more than enough.)

He smiled one more time as he saw the golden glint of the tiger stone, looking incredibly so much like Ryoma aren't they mostly darker and striped? amber/topaz is more like ryo's eye color I think. The adorable, playful, mischievous little kitten he is.

He was about to hand it back to the lady when a scream erupted from behind him.

He whipped around, alarmed, only to find himself and a couple of other customers inside the expensive jewelry shop under gunpoint. His breath caught as he observed the culprits. Their faces were covered by black stocking masks, and their hands were gloved.

_No chance of fingerprints—damn!_

"All of you, DOWN!" yelled one of the men, and there was another bout of screaming when the man fired once at the ceiling. He prayed to the gods that there was no one above. Kevin slowly went down on his arms and knees, chancing a glance outside. People were milling around the shop's front windows, trying to get a look inside, but kept their distance within a few feet.

_Good, you people still have some sense of self-preservation left in you._

Kevin cursed as the men started cleaning the cash register and the jewels, stashing them into a black cotton bag that looked more like a loot sack. This was not good.

His eyes flitted towards the clear store windows again, seeing a familiar flash of black and pink jersey. He squinted his eyes, before having them widen in shock. Toushi?! Sucker snorgger what?, what are you doing here?!

Toushi was trying to get past the newly arrived barricade of policemen in front of the store, and they weren't allowing him. There was one result: chaos. Toushi was struggling against the policemen and shouting something—he had an inkling it was his name—and that had Kevin biting his lip. He didn't want Toushi hurt.

He was startled back to the masked men's conversation when one of them barked at an elderly lady with a child—most likely the granddaughter—curled up on the corner near him, demanding something. Kevin strained his ears to hear over the din and commotion both outside and inside the store.

"—said hand me your money, bitch!" roared one of the men, nudging the old lady who was shielding her grandchild with herself. Kevin gritted his teeth as the other masked men started demanding the money from the other customers as well. Luckily, the masked men started a few rows away from him. It was quite a spacious jewelry store, after all, and was very famous with foreigners frequenting the Odaiba Bay area. "Give me your money!"

"I—I don't have money with me—"

"BITCH!" yelled the enraged masked man. Apparently, they were starting to get on edge; the police were moving.

"Oi, hurry it up, we need to scram!" called another man from near the back door.

The old lady whimpered as the man hovering above her lifted his gun and held her at gunpoint. The child promptly started crying.

_NO!_

Kevin lunged.

* * *

"LET ME THROUGH, DAMMIT!" roared Toushi, struggling against the two policemen twice his age and size holding him back. The people around him as well as the policemen were apparently quite surprised at his strength. Well, he wasn't an athlete for nothing. "KEVIN!"

"Sir!" one of the policemen struggled. "Sir, please—calm down!"

"You're FUCKING telling me to calm down when my best friend is in there, under gunpoint?" snarled Toushi. "Why the FUCK aren't you moving in anyways?!"

"Sir—"

But Toushi wasn't paying attention.

As he was ranting on the policeman, his eyes caught a flurry of movement from inside.

His eyes widened as a yellow blur sped from one corner of the store towards where a masked man was holding a lady at gunpoint. One of the police snipers, he noted, was aiming for the masked man's head, but he was too late.

Kevin lunged.

Bang!

"KEVIN!"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**

* * *

Cliffie galore! God, I love cliffhangers (when I'm the one writing them).

Here, little bonus!

* * *

**OMAKE **

Keigo: (condescending voice) Say it with me, Ryoma. In-cri-mi-NA-ting.

Ryoma: (snotty I'm-greater-than-you-so-shut-up-because-I-don't-care voice) IncrimiMAting!

Keigo: (frustrated) Ryoma, it's in-cri-mi-NA-ting! N, Ryoma, not M! N!

Ryoma: (pouts) You don't think I'm cute? (kicked-puppy eyes)

Keigo: (deflates and groans)

Jiroh: (yawns) Wake me when you're no longer ass-whipped by Ryoma, Kei-chan.

* * *

**Kiasidira Ixari/Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 02.27.07  
First Revision Version: 03.01.07_


	20. Step Twenty: Delayed Reaction

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Right. The last chapter drew quite a reaction from you lot, but well, that's to be expected. After all, none of you were expecting the story to suddenly refocus on Kevin, ne? After all, Ryoma and Keigo were the main focal points of the story for quite a while now, and the sudden shift _is_ quite surprising. (And I enjoyed the reactions to the cliffhanger. Excellent reactions. Omigoto!)

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s):** Angst and drama to the max.

Oh, and yeah, just to reply to one review: yes, this story _is_ fast becoming a telenovela-ish/drama/soap opera type, ne… oh well, it's the entertainment that counts.

* * *

**Step Twenty:** **Delayed Reaction**  
_(Second Revision Version)_

* * *

Keigo rolled to face the door and uncovered his eyes with the click of the door's closing. He watched his shaking young charge enter his chambers. He had heard of their exchange. Who wouldn't, what with all the racket they made. He sat up to survey the younger boy and sighed. Sometimes he got tired of this too, but he was neither willing to let Ryoma suffer alone, nor to abandon his childhood friend and let him fall into depression.

"Ryoma. Come."

With an unsteady gait, the smaller one half-staggered and half-shuffled into Keigo's embrace. He buried his face into Keigo's neck, and he could feel the elder resting his chin on the top of his head while rubbing his back in comforting circles. He hated it as much as he loved it, how Keigo was always there to comfort him. He couldn't help but be babied, and he supposed it was mostly his fault for acting the way he did.

_If you hadn't locked yourself in Keigo's chambers all day, barring meals to mope and feel sorry for yourself, you wouldn't have this problem, _a voice, unsettlingly sounding like his father, taunted him in his mind.

He tightened his hold on Keigo and unbidden tears spilled forth to soak through the elder's shirt. "He hit me. He never hits me. Kei, he hit me."

Keigo sighed ruefully. Sometimes, _just sometimes_, he wondered if he spoiled Ryoma a bit too much. "He was entitled to it," he murmured and the boy stiffened in his arms. "He was only worried, Ryoma, and you pushed him away. He—_we_ take care of you, not because we think you are incapable of taking care of yourself, but because _we care_. Not because we pity you. _Never_ because of that." Keigo stroked the boy's hair to calm his racking sobs. "Please don't shut us out. I'm sorry for stifling you. Honto ni gomen ne."

He gave the younger a squeeze before untangling himself from the boy. His hand tilted Ryoma's face to meet his eyes. "I know you've needed to vent, but Kevin did not deserve your anger. If anything, I should have been the one to take the brunt of your anger. I was the one who deserved it." He gave a bark of derisive laughter. "If anything, I should have known better than to make you feel caged."

"Kevin did not deserve your anger, although I cannot say the same for you. He was right you know. I will never abandon you, no matter what you choose, but it is simply not healthy to lock yourself in my chambers all the time. What of your other friends? Momoshiro, Kikumaru, the rest of Seigaku-tachi? I am certain they are just as worried as Kevin. Jiroh is complaining how much more sleep you're getting than him, and Oshitari overheard Inui commenting on counting two more added wrinkles on Tezuka's forehead."

That got a snort and a start of a smile on Ryoma's tear-stained face. Keigo smirked with satisfaction in return.

Keigo sighed. "Promise me you'll apologize, Ryoma," murmured Keigo, resting his cheek against the soft, silky strands that is Ryoma's emerald-tinged black hair. "Apologize to Kevin. He didn't deserve it. Kevin is a wonderful friend, Ryoma. Please don't ruin your friendship with him."

Ryoma tearfully chuckled against Keigo's night shirt. "I know. Promise…"

"I didn't hear it."

"_Promise_."

"_Really _promise?"

Ryoma drew back from Keigo and gave him a baleful glare. "Urusai na, saru-sama!"

Keigo let out a dignified snort, appalled at being called 'saru-sama' but letting his charge go for now. (An Atobe did not stand insulted unless under extreme circumstances.) Keigo heaved a silent sigh, before hustling Ryoma back into bed again, nestling him against a snoozing Jiroh.

"Go to sleep kitten."

Ryoma crossed his arms and pouted, sitting cross-legged on the bed. He looked absolutely adorable with the tousled hair and the emotionally exhausted eyes, and for a moment there, Keigo thought he would lose out to the childish pout Ryoma had on his face. But the boy was now exhausted from all that crying, and partly under his still-uncured depression. As such, he didn't manage to call out _the_ puppy dog eyes that made Keigo buckle completely every single time.

Keigo inwardly smirked triumphantly. _Not this time, kitten._

"Come now, don't be stubborn. You're sure to acquire a headache sooner or later because of all that… _bawling_ you've done earlier."

If possible, Ryoma's pout lengthened, and sniffed in offense at Keigo. "I did _NOT_ bawl!"

Keigo stood from the side of the bed unperturbed, reaching towards the bedside table and drawer where a pitcher of water and the medicine were ready, respectively. There was always a pitcher of water ready, fresh on his bedside every time he needed it, and he lauded himself for having acquired such efficient servants. (But of _course_. An Atobe doesn't settle for anything less.)

"Of course, you didn't, kitten," Keigo placated the younger with a straight face, not minding Ryoma's snarl. "Now drink this, and sleep. I'll wake you for dinner."

Ryoma huffed, but relented anyways. "Che."

Keigo smiled. _Victory._

* * *

Darkness.

Knifing pain.

Silence.

_Ryoma…_

* * *

Ryoma jolted awake from his sleep, a light sheen of sweat breaking out suddenly on his forehead. Beside him, Karupin mewled silently, readjusting her position before returning to her peaceful slumber. He tried to reassess his environment and remember why the heck he was sweating like crazy, up in the middle of his nap so suddenly. He frowned, trying to figure out where the unsettling feeling was coming from.

"Ryo-chan?" came a silent voice beside him. "Are you awake?" Jiroh asked, before yawning and stretching his back like a cat while remaining on his side on the bed.

"Jiroh-senpai," muttered Ryoma. "Did I wake you up? Gomen ne."

"Nah," Jiroh replied just as silently and even more sleepily. "I was already up. It's dinnertime soon. In fact, Kei-chan should come in any second now and hassle us down to the dining room."

"Sou ne," nodded Ryoma. He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Were you having a nightmare?" Jiroh asked, reaching over to pet Ryoma on the head, the sleep-mussed black head looking very cute on the groggy Ryoma. The younger boy practically purred under Jiroh's ministrations.

"I don't know," sighed Ryoma. "I just sort of… woke up with a bad feeling."

"Ah," nodded Jiroh. "Instinct, then. That's not good. It might mean something bad is gonna happen soon."

Ryoma groaned. "Come _on_. I'm having enough right now."

Jiroh chuckled. "You'll get through smoothly, pet. I'm sure you will."

A sigh. "Let's hope so."

* * *

Toushi buried his head in his hands, shaking slightly as he watched the medics stabilize Kevin before getting him into the ambulance. The police hadn't managed to apprehend all of the thieves, but they managed to nick the one who appeared to be the boss, and the other one who apparently shot Kevin. Half the loot was returned, and no one except Kevin was hurt. The old grandma and the girl Kevin had shielded from the shot were unharmed, apart from the grandmother's slightly high blood pressure.

"Sir, are you the relative?" asked one of the medics.

Toushi shook his head. "Just… close friend. He's got no relatives here in Japan—his mom's dead, his dad's in New York."

"I see," nodded the medic, a respectable-looking middle-aged man who was the head of group. He jotted down some notes. "Is there any other person we need to contact about his situation?"

'Y-Yes, you might want to contact his… well, the people we're staying with," nodded Toushi, before rattling off the address and phone number of Odaiba Manor in a monotone voice.

"Do you want to come along in the ambulance and go to the hospital with us?"

Toushi nodded blankly, before getting up slowly with a heavy sigh. He accepted the bloodied Seigaku jersey—well, the pieces of it at least, since they needed to cut open his clothes to get to the entry wound—from the head medic silently, holding it tight in his hands. Before he could make a move towards the ambulance, though, a young girl approached him.

"E-Eto… o-onii-chan?" voiced the girl.

"Yes?" Toushi smiled, lifting his expression so as not to scare off the already-shaken girl.

"Are you the friend of the onii-chan who saved us?"

Toushi's eyebrows quirked slightly. So this was the girl who Kevin saved. The grandmother was still sitting with one of the medics, resting and waiting patiently for the medicine given to her to work and lower her blood pressure.

"Yes, I am."

The girl smiled. "Can you please tell him thank you? Thank you so much!"

Toushi smiled and nodded. "Of course. I'll be sure to tell him that when he wakes up."

The girl bowed her head as she was reminded of what happened. "Gomen nasai."

"It's okay," chuckled Toushi. "Kevin is strong. He'll be up before you know it."

"Ano, onii-chan?" the girl started again, fiddling in her pocket for a small item Toushi couldn't see. "Kevin-nii-chan dropped this."

The girl held out a silver necklace to Toushi, whose eyebrows furrowed. He frowned slightly.

"Where did he drop it?"

"I just saw it on the floor when the policemen were taking the bad guys away," the small girl frowned, thrusting the necklace into Toushi's hands. "Give it to him for me?"

"Of course," smiled Toushi, taking the necklace blindly and slowly ushering the girl back to her grandmother. "I'll be sure to tell you, and grandma too, when Kevin wakes up, ne?"

"Arigato, nii-chan!"

Toushi simply nodded as the girl ran off towards her grandmother, who was beckoning her. As Toushi sighed and turned around, walking towards the ambulance, he fiddled with the pendant of the necklace he had in hand, the silver chain dangling in the air. He looked down.

The tiger eye stones glinted in the fading sunset.

"Kevin…"

Toushi climbed into the ambulance after the medics, and the door closed off behind them. He looked down at the blonde head, trying his best to ignore the blood-matted shirt cut open and the medics' white-gloved hands stabilizing Kevin's situation. He knew that they wouldn't be able to take the bullet out until they were in the hospital, and they were running a risk of infection and blood loss. He sighed again.

_…if you were given a choice, Kevin, would you choose to be with the one whom you loved but didn't love you back… or the one who loves you but you don't love back?_

Kevin's hand clenched instinctively around Toushi's hand as the white-haired youth reached for him.

_…because if I were you, I'd choose to be with the one who loves me anytime. That way, I can learn to love whoever it is and be happy for the rest of my days…_

Kevin softly moaned, slipping in limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness. "Ryoma…"

_…but hey, I'm not you, and you're not me. Right, Kev?_

* * *

Ryoma sneezed into his dinner for the fourth time that evening.

He sniffled, rubbing his nose. "Someode's dalking aboud me."

Keigo chuckled silently beside the younger player. Fuji and Tezuka were, for a good change, silent this evening. Keigo figured it was either the talking they did earlier before they found Ryoma, or it was because it was Regionals the next day.

Nanjiroh chortled from the end of the table. "Maa, seishounen, doesn't that mean you're famous?" he said. "People are talking about you!"

"Shuddup," Ryoma grumbled, digging back into his dinner.

Fuji sighed from his corner imperceptibly, a nagging feeling settling in his veins as he eyed the two empty seats beside him. Kevin and Toushi were both missing.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka voiced silently. "You're ignoring your dinner."

Ryoma paused his eating slightly as he heard Tezuka concernedly chiding a strangely preoccupied Fuji.

"Ah, gomen," Fuji apologized with a small, uncharacteristically uncertain smile. Ryoma's brow furrowed. Fuji turned towards Ryoma unexpectedly. "Ano, Ryoma-chan… I was wondering if you knew where Toushi and Kevin are?"

Ryoma raised his eyebrows, before shaking his head in negation. He didn't want to speak, for fear of his voice breaking suddenly under the onslaught of emotion. He wanted so _much_ to go back to Fuji and Tezuka, but he had already made his decision. He had to show Fuji and Tezuka that he was serious, and until they could figure it out and start explaining things to him, start talking to him, he wouldn't budge.

Fuji sighed, nodding in acquiescence. "I understand," Fuji said in a bare whisper. Around them, the other players tried to ignore the downcast mood Tezuka, Fuji, and Ryoma were in—and Eiji was making a good effort at it. Too good.

No one even realized that Kevin and Toushi were missing.

"Sou da, sou da, Kevin and Toushi were missing!" Eiji exclaimed, now effectively drawing everyone's attention.

Fuji chuckled silently. "I'll admit, the two of them grew on me."

"Where are they?" Ryoma asked suddenly, reminded of his earlier spat with Kevin. "Where did they go?"

"I'm sure they're just out somewhere knocking themselves out with alcohol," Keigo waved his hand dismissively.

Ryoma placed his utensils down on his plate slowly, his eyes cast down.

"Ryoma?" Keigo asked worriedly.

"I…"

Fuji sighed.

"I'm sure Kevin didn't mean any of it, Ryoma," Fuji muttered. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you; it was just the stress getting to him."

"B-but…!"

"Ryoma… don't blame yourself!" Tezuka admonished.

Keigo looked back and forth from Fuji and Tezuka to Ryoma, half his mind pondering happily on the fact that the three are slowly getting in tune with each other once again, and the other half rejoicing on the fact that Kevin had finally opened up about his feelings, no matter how explosive the result was.

"Nya, you look happy, Atobe-nya," Eiji frowned.

Keigo shrugged, a small, satisfied look settling on his face, much to the bewilderment of Ryoma.

"Excuse my rudeness, but Keigo-bocchama, I need to talk to you for a moment," came the majordomo from the side door, holding a phone in his hand. Keigo's brows furrowed. His majordomo knew not to disturb him unless under extreme circumstances. He hoped this had nothing to do with Ryoma's bout of 'unpleasant premonition' earlier.

Keigo nodded, dabbing his lips with the napkin before standing from his seat and following his majordomo towards the anteroom right next to the dining room.

Ryoma's frown deepened as his eyes followed Keigo. He knew that this had to be something serious, and he didn't have a good feeling about it. The nagging feeling remained as he continued to pick lifelessly at his food—he mentally apologized to the piece of shrimp being toyed around on his plate—before forking the flesh and taking a soft bite. He then lifted his glass of water as the spicy sauce seared his tongue.

About five minutes later, Keigo re-emerged from the room, face solemn and drawn.

"What is it, Atobe-nya?" asked Eiji, bouncing on his chair as if expecting some news that would make his day even better.

Keigo's face was contorted into a worried expression.

"It's Kevin. He's in the hospital, in critical condition. He's been shot."

Glass shattered on the floor.

* * *

Toushi sighed for the hundredth or so time that night, rubbing his forehead in worry and clutching the bloodied Seigaku jersey in his hands. The operating room's light was on, and they were performing emergency surgery on Kevin. Apparently, after inspecting the gun's barrel, the forensic medics found out that there was a possibility that the bullet was not clean, and the risk of infection was quadrupled for Kevin. As such, the doctors immediately rushed him to the operating room upon arrival.

It had only been an hour so since they arrived, but Toushi felt like it was forever. The surgery on Kevin wasn't supposed to take too long; it was just a bullet wound, and compared to other cases handled with surgery, this was nothing. However, the doctors did say it would take quite a while to heal, and it was a certainty that the young man wouldn't be able to compete for Regionals. About two weeks, though, and the wound would close. There were no ligaments or tendons torn, and the muscles were intact. Kevin had one hell of a lucky strike.

The operating room's doors opened, and out came the doctor with specks of blood and something clear white that smelled like chemicals—hydrogen peroxide for cleaning the wound, perhaps—on his apron. "Toushi-kun," greeted the doctor. This doctor was very familiar to his patients, apparently. "I'm sorry for this," he began, gesturing to his aprons.

Toushi shook his head. "It's fine, I'm… not really squeamish."

The doctor merely chuckled and muttered something that sounded like 'maybe that's because you people haven't seen anything to be squeamish about'. Toushi frowned at this, but shrugged it off; after all, this was a doctor, and he probably had seen more types of gross and icky stuff in actual life than he had.

"I take it the surgery went well?"

The doctor nodded smilingly. "Two weeks tops and he should be fine. A little rehab, and he should be up and running again. No severe and lasting damage whatsoever. His career—tennis, is it?—is safe, rest assured."

Toushi slowly let go of a large breath he didn't realize he'd been holding all this time. That was a great relief; he knew that Kevin wouldn't be able to bear it had the news had been otherwise.

"All you need to do is support him and make sure he rests up and drinks his antibiotics on time," the doctor quipped. "And then guide him through the rehab stuff. I'm sure it'll be easy for him to re-utilize and 'warm up' himself since he's an athlete. He just needs to rework the muscles after his rest—they deteriorate after some disuse, so he will need to build more. But for now, let's take it easy on his shoulder. We don't want the wound to dehisce."

"Understood," nodded Toushi, standing up and bowing to the doctor. "Thank you, sensei." (1)

Toushi waited for the doctor to give him the room number where Kevin was confined in—apparently, this hospital's operating rooms had back doors where they pass the patients through—before sweeping smoothly out of the waiting lounge. His actions betrayed his feelings; he was so shaken inside, and yet his grace was undaunted. A couple of other bystanders in the other lounges he passed regarded him with curious yet detached stares; he guessed it was because of the bloody jersey in his hands.

_Well, suckers, this is a hospital. Blood is totally acceptable. If you're squeamish, go find a washroom and barf._

He was startled out of his reverie when his own feet shuddered to a stop. He wasn't even consciously thinking on where he was going, and he didn't even realize that he was already there beside Kevin's bed, waiting patiently for the nurses to clear out and leave him alone inside the room. Slowly, as the last of the equipment were taken care of, the nurses filed out of the room one by one, each regarding him with smiles and respectful glances.

As soon as they were out, Toushi pulled a chair towards Kevin's bedside, settled the bloody jersey on the vacant bedside table, and sat down contemplatively. He knew he had to calm himself down; the others would no doubt be arriving soon. He wouldn't break down in front of them, no. He would be strong. For Kevin.

* * *

Keigo frowned, at a loss on how to reassure Ryoma. The boy had been silent ever since they left for the hospital, and until now that they were entering the hospital, the boy hadn't uttered a single word. He wondered inwardly if it had anything to do with what happened earlier. Probably, the boy was too caught up thinking about Fuji and Tezuka's changed behaviors, as well as worrying about Kevin.

_Ryoma shuddered as he, Nanjiroh, Keigo, Tezuka, Fuji, Tachibana, Yukimura, and Sanada bustled out of the manor's huge entrance hall's oak double doors and into the limousine prepared for them, gleaming an elegant black against the bluish moonlight. He jumped slightly as he felt cloth drape over his shoulders, and his head whipped around only to meet Fuji's gaze. _

_"Syuu—Fuji…" _

_Ryoma inwardly flinched as he saw a flicker of pain cross Fuji's face, and immediately berated himself for his slip. But before he could even register it more closely, it was gone, replaced by the usual smiling and gentle façade Fuji always wore in front of other people. This time, the pain twanged inside him. _

_"Ryoma-chan, you should have worn something warmer," muttered Fuji as he ushered Ryoma into the limousine. "It's a cold night tonight." _

_"U-Uhn…" nodded Ryoma blankly, not even registering that he was sitting in between Tezuka and Fuji again. He was too preoccupied with the recent events, and his mind refused to process anything that wasn't related to Kevin's current predicament. Though Fuji's obvious pain was strong enough to pierce through his worry, it still didn't last long enough. He was far too worried and immersed in guilt over his unwell best friend. _

_In his large, spacious seat, Keigo smiled inwardly. The relationship was indeed mending. This was good. At least, this time, he wouldn't have to deal with being Ryoma's shock absorber alone once again. _

_God knows it was hard and tiring, and once alone was enough. He was not willing to let Ryoma suffer like that again, with only himself as his support. _

He sighed.

Sometimes he wished he had access to Ryoma's thoughts. The boy was so hard too figure out.

The group started moving up the stairs, Nanjiroh having politely asked the front desk about Kevin's room. It was a subdued atmosphere in the hospital, and the lay over between the day shift and night shift nurses were starting. Without any of the naturally sugar-high players they had—namely Eiji, Gakuto, Momoshiro, and some others along with it—they had no source for cheer.

Keigo silently groaned. _Was it such a bad idea to exclude Kikumaru in this trip? Because These people are too gloomy._

He glanced at Tezuka, who had his normal neutral mask on, and Fuji, who had a contemplative expression on his face. Sanada was as menacing as ever—Keigo inwardly sneered as a couple of nurses half-swooned and half-cringed at him—and Yukimura didn't bother hiding the worried look he had in his shimmering eyes. Nanjiroh was silent as well, not making his normal snide, playful comments towards the sexy nurses for once. Tachibana was the serious, commendable captain he usually is, and it was not helping the case.

Then Keigo's eyes landed on the last member of the group as they entered the room where Kevin was in.

He flinched. _Then again, maybe I wouldn't really want to know what he's thinking, considering that look on his face…_

Ryoma's emotions were warring fiercely out in the open as he remained frozen by the doorway behind the others. He gazed at Kevin on the bed, his eyes flitting over towards the table where the bloodied jersey was; he was guilty. He saw the machines beside the bed and the dextrose tube leading to Kevin's wrist; he was worried. He saw Toushi sitting on Kevin's bedside, clutching the limp hand; he was jealous.

_Why wasn't I here? Why am I not doing what I should be doing—the job of a best friend? Why is it Toushi, and not me, who's sitting beside Kevin; taking care of him, paying him the attention he deserves, being the good friend? What happened? Where did we go wrong? Where did _I_ go wrong? _

Fuji's eyebrows furrowed in concern. He shot Tezuka a glance, before swerving his eyes toward Atobe, who shot him a similarly worried look. The tensai sighed and tentatively reached out towards the young teen, who was obviously deep in his brooding. He petted the black mop of hair down against Ryoma's head, before slowly drawing him into a soft, comforting embrace.

"Don't blame yourself, Ryoma-chan," muttered Fuji. "I'm pretty sure there's a reason for all this. Don't judge before you've seen the entire scenario."

Ryoma remained silent in Fuji's embrace, but Fuji was glad to note that the younger boy did slightly lean into his touch. Tezuka's forehead notably relaxed a notch, and Keigo even thought he saw a crease disappeared. Toushi was silently conversing with Nanjiroh, who was checking on Kevin's condition and his own condition. The bodyguards slash servants following them gave food and a new set of clothes to Toushi, who smiled a subdued smile appreciatively at them.

"Toushi-kun," started Tachibana. "If you could explain…?"

Toushi sighed and nodded, before opening his mouth to start his long monologue.

This was gonna be a long night.

* * *

Ryoma chugged from his water bottle robotically, following the routine trained and etched hard into his system. He still remembered Nanjiroh ranting loudly over his small, four-year-old head that after any workout, water should follow. _Lots_ of water.

"Oi, Ryoma!" chided Momoshiro, snatching the water bottle away from his kouhai abruptly, almost making the younger teen choke. "Don't drown yourself; we need you for the next match!"

Ryoma simply grunted and sank into his seat, staring blankly into space. Momoshiro, blatantly put off, huffed and crossed his arms, throwing the half-empty water bottles towards the waiting arms of the ichinen trio. Horio whined to his two disgruntled companions about the 'menial labor' his 'five-years-of-tennis-experience' behind was put under.

Behind Ryoma, Fuji sighed. He sent one of those worried glances towards Tezuka again, who returned it with just as much concern. The crease that had initially disappeared had _re_appeared after a worrisome, trouble-filled night. Ryoma's current drone of a condition wasn't helping the case. Oishi was deeply worried that if Ryoma happened to face someone strong enough, they might manage to get past through Ryoma's lifeless play. However, Eiji protested loudly and immediately contradicted his doubles partner, claiming that Ryoma wasn't anywhere near letting go of his undefeated streak.

After all, they were only in _Regionals_, and this was a _Wimbledon and US Open Champion_ they were talking about.

And Tezuka had to agree.

Still, it was a very troublesome situation.

Inui approached the group as they rested under some trees, sprawled on the green grass while letting the dappled sunlight ripple through the foliage before shining down on them with warmth. It was a very nice day, with a cool breeze and a moderately warm temperature; and as Fuji remarked, perfect for his Hakugei.

The dataman adjusted his glasses and opened his notebook before standing over the others. "Minna, I gathered enough data to safely conclude that our next opponent will be Fudou Koto Gakkou."

Unsurprised grunts came from the group as they lazily half-dozed under the warm sun. It was lunchtime, and they had two more hours before their next match with Fudou. Everyone had expected it was Fudou who would eventually be their opponents in the Regionals Final. They were, after all, the only time that managed to match Seigaku in all terms. (Well, okay, not _all_ terms—Seigaku still was the 'perfect team', having all the different kinds of players—but still worthy enough to be called a challenge of sorts.)

Fuji sighed, leaning over to Nanjiroh, who was humming peacefully beside him, reading a porn magazine. Fuji shot the magazine a disinterested and detached glance—ladies' bare butts and breasts didn't appeal that much to him compared to Tezuka's skin and Ryoma's innocent allure—before nudging his coach. "Nanjiroh-sensei?"

Nanjiroh grunted.

"Will Ryoma be fine?"

Nanjiroh paused his humming, before chuckling silently. "He'll be fine, Fuji. Don't worry. I'm pretty sure sooner or later he'll be back to his old self. Something will happen that will return him to his former grace."

Fuji narrowed his eyes. "How can you be so sure?"

"Well, I'm just sure," grinned Nanjiroh, before returning to his magazine with a careless shrug.

Fuji inwardly groaned. _Talk about vague people._

Meanwhile, Inui continued his announcement. "Consequently, I have also received information that the match will be moved an hour and a half earlier, which would mean it would be less than twenty minutes away."

This time, his announcement was met with loud shrieks and protests.

"NANDAYO, THEY CAN'T JUST DO THAT, NYA!"

"Unfair! Unfair, unfair, we haven't lunched yet!"

"Fsssssssssshhhhh, that's too early, senpai…"

"I-Inui, why weren't we informed earlier?!"

However, even through the chaos, Ryoma was silent and gave no reaction whatsoever.

Fuji reached over towards Ryoma and placed a gentle hand on top of Ryoma's head. "Ryoma-chan?" Fuji silently asked. "Daijoubu?"

"Un," Ryoma nodded blankly, not even registering the question.

Fuji heaved a sigh and moved towards Ryoma, before drawing him into another embrace. Ryoma instinctively moved into the touch and closed his eyes as he leaned against Fuji's chest. Fuji enclosed him in warm arms and started petting his hair, while humming a low, nondescript tune that was unheard from the other players' position. It was only meant for Ryoma's ears.

Tezuka smiled slightly as the sight greeted his eyes. He was glad that Ryoma was warming up to them again. He had wanted so much to take the young teen back into his arms, just like before. Fuji sent him a slight smile over Ryoma's head, before planting a soft kiss on top of Ryoma's head.

Soon enough, Tezuka had the whole team up stretching and finishing up their lunches. The order was already announced an hour prior, and everything was well taken care of. Though the Regionals was nothing to worry too much about, as Tezuka went, one cannot afford to be careless. After all, carelessness only led to one thing for them: defeat.

_"Good afternoon. It is now half past one. The Regionals Finals will begin soon. Players, please report to the courts in ten minutes. The players are the Seishun Gakuen Koto Gakkou team against the Fudou Koto Gakkou team. I repeat, Seishun Gakuen Koto Gakkou team against the Fudou Koto Gakkou team. Players, please report to the courts in ten minutes. Thank you."_

The loudspeakers echoed slightly as the female announcer's voice faded away. Tezuka then turned to his team with a determined look on his face.

"This is the finals. Just one more team to beat," he said to his team. The whole Seigaku team was listening intently—except maybe for Ryoma, who was still gone in his own little world—and were all attentive and determined to win. "We can do this, I'm sure, but I don't want _anyone_ to be careless. Yuudan sezou ni ikou!"

"Hai!" came a chorus of replies.

"YOSH, LET'S RUMBLE!" yelled Eiji, startling several bystanders out of their skins. Momoshiro sweated at his senpai's increased—if possible—hyperactive behavior.

The team trooped over to the main courts, where the spectators were starting to mill around. Fudou was already there, it seemed. The crowd started buzzing excitedly as the two teams started depositing their stuff on the benches and then filed up in front of each other by the net. The referee started stating the rules of the game and introduced each team; the captains shook hands. Tachibana gave Tezuka a hint of a respectful smile and a challenging glance, which Tezuka sent back just as fiercely.

Kaidoh was already in battle mode, hissing aggressively at Kamio, who was hissing—uncharacteristically so—right back at him. Momoshiro was chuckling and shaking his head, muttering under his breath about the racket the crowd was making. Eiji was chipper than ever, and was matching Asuka's enthusiasm on the other side of the net. The two were practically bouncing in their places, and their partners struggled in vain to control them. (Well, _Oishi_ struggled. Shinichi just… let his partner kill himself.)

Toushi, however, was _not_ pleased.

He frowned, his eye bags swollen from lack of sleep, and his eyes bloodshot from staying up much too late and getting up much too early. After all, they did stay up quite late in the hospital the previous night, and only went back home in the early dawn to get ready for the Regionals. Rinko and Nanako both volunteered to look after the still unconscious Kevin while they were off for the games.

(Momoshiro pouted. _How come he manages to stay drool-worthy even if he's practically the walking dead? That's unfair. I want that too._)

However, that was not what Toushi was upset about.

No. What he was upset about as a certain someone who was standing in front of him right that moment, staring off into vacant space.

He curled his lips in a mixture of a sneer and a snarl, his annoyance at Ryoma surfacing. _You… owe Kevin…_

"—irst match will begin shortly!"

The referee's raised voice snapped Toushi out of his reverie and effectively snapped his attention back to the matter at hand. He flexed his fingers. He knew the supposed order for the Seigaku team pretty well—he wasn't as bad a listener as Kevin was—and he was pretty sure that he would end up with Ryoma on his opposite court.

He swerved from his spot sharply, retiring towards the benches with a hardened and determined look on his face.

_I can't wait._

* * *

A mop of jet black hair bobbed up and down.

"**_Well, this is nice…_**"

A tanned, masculine hand reached up to ruffle the already mussed mop of hair, before adjusting the dashing black sunglasses perched on an immaculately shaped nose.

"**_I wonder where the airport money exchange teller is…_**"

Fine eyebrows raised and golden eyes peered over the rim of the sunglasses intently as a couple of Japanese girls wearing fashionable sexy summer attire pranced by up front, laughing and cajoling with each other.

"**_Mm-hmm. Nice rack, babe._**"

A tennis bag and a packed duffel bag was slung on a toned, well-formed shoulder, before the young man of early twenties started swaggering forward, dividing the throng of other passengers boarding and leaving planes in the Narita International Airport.

Perfectly shaped lips curled into a mischievous smile as a hand pulled out a piece of paper with "Atobe Odaiba Manor" and an address printed on it.

"**_They're gonna be surprised…_**"

Echizen Ryoga smirked as he walked out into daylight, his sunglasses glinting under the bright warm light.

* * *

Loud cheers echoed through the courts as the crowd surrounding them erupted in applause. Doubles 1 had just finished, and Eiji and Oishi had just finished showing the world just why they were called the best doubles pair in Japan's junior tennis scene: the golden pair. On the other court, Asuka was cheering his heart out for Eiji. Having been placed as reserve, he didn't get a chance to play Eiji like he had wanted. All throughout the game, he was torn between cheering for his own team and cheering for his idol. In the end, he simply opted to stay put and silent—which required much effort on his part—for the length of the game, and simply cheered whoever won.

Kamio and Shinji were initially placed in Doubles 1 against Momoshiro and Kaidoh, and though it was a fierce match, in the end, Seigaku won. Momoshiro had several tricks up his sleeve, having greatly increased the capacity of his Insight, while Kaidoh had completely mastered his Tornado Snake and adapted it into all his shots. Quite impressive feats they were.

The referee, after five minutes of pause for the teams to rest and rearrange, raised his voice over the crowd's chatter once again. "Singles 3: Kairou Toushi-kun for Fudou Koto Gakkou team versus Echizen Ryoma-kun of Seishun Gakuen Koto Gakkou team! Players, please proceed onto the court."

Cheers rose from the crowd as Ryoma's name was called. Apparently, news of his fame was not unknown within the crowd of spectators they had today. However, Ryoma was not in any mood to appreciate the loud cheers around him. After all, he was on his auto-drone mode.

Both players rose from their seats, one with a blank expression, and the other with an similarly undisturbed expression yet a raging fire in his eyes. The two of them stood point blank in front of each other on the court, effectively ignoring the mix of cheers and jeers coming from all around them. That was one skill a player needed to master: concentration.

However, even though Ryoma appeared like it, Toushi knew he was not concentrating. No, the younger boy was _far_ from focused. He inwardly snarled. He didn't like this attitude.

_Well… it'll be up to me to correct that. _

He reached over and shook Ryoma's hand, before turning his back on the other teen and walking to the service point. It was his service game.

_Time for the chess master to sit up and play_.

Toushi grinned a feral grin, bouncing the ball and eyeing Ryoma's position on court.

"Here I come."

* * *

From the sidelines, Inui sighed deeply, the scratching of his pen against his notebook's paper stopping abruptly.

"Nya, something wrong, Inui-nya?" Eiji quipped, noting Inui's sigh. The acrobatic player didn't notice Momoshiro's baleful glance at Inui, nor Kaidoh's unusual indifference. He also didn't notice that for once, Momoshiro and Kaidoh were sitting side by side and not arguing about anything; they were just being quiet.

Fuji, however, was more attentive, and caught the hint. He frowned. He knew that he shouldn't interfere with the business of his teammates, especially their love lives, but he was slightly concerned about Kaidoh. It seems Inui was starting to neglect his own boyfriend. Fuji's piercing blue eyes flitted towards Momoshiro, and his face gained a smile. Well, there was a solution to every problem.

"I'm worried about Ryoma," Inui muttered. "I didn't expect Toushi to be in Singles 3. Rather, I expected him to be in Doubles 1 with Shinichi, who is a perfect doubles match for him since their styles complement each other. I was under the impression that it was what Tachibana had planned. It was a 95 percent certainty."

"Really?" Taka-san quipped. "Then why was the line-up rearranged?"

"I have a feeling that Toushi requested to be matched with Ryoma," replied Fuji. "It would make sense; I _did_ overhear Tachibana reciting their line-up last night to Kamio."

"Sou da ne," nodded Inui. "However, this does not change the fact that we should be worried regarding their match."

"Whaddya mean-nya?"

"Toushi is a chess master, and he is very witty and is great with strategies. He incorporates chess into his games and uses hard-to-predict moves with his own personal style. Unless his opponent is well-versed in chess as well and is able to figure out just how Toushi incorporates the chess into his game, there is little chance of winning. The chess master will manipulate the pawns and pin the king. Before the opponent even knows it, it's check mate. This much I've gathered," Inui rattled off.

"He's an expert strategist, and unless Ryoma's exceptional skill manages to come up, he will win. This attitude Ryoma has right now won't get him anywhere near winning," Inui finished, stopping his writing at the same time.

"…"

Tezuka sighed, rubbing his forehead. "For now, let's just watch. It's not like we can still do anything to stop the match. It's already midway."

And indeed it was.

Ryoma and Toushi were already exchanging shots on court, and while the game looked like an awesome, spirited game in the eyes of an amateur, to the weathered players' eyes, they saw the lifelessness of Ryoma's play. Toushi was slowly baiting the boy, but even Fuji could see that even the ever-patient chess master was slowly getting more and more impatient.

"4-1, to Fudou!"

Cheers rose over the crowd, as well as wondering whispers. After all, it was Ryoma who was losing here.

Ryoma didn't react as the score was announced; he simply bowed his head for a moment, before walking back to the benches and taking his water bottle with a vacant nod from Horio. Fuji could clearly see the boy was still wallowing in guilt from what had happened, but he couldn't say anything about it; he'd said enough. It was either up to someone else or to Ryoma himself to recover.

Wordlessly, Ryoma trudged back to the court, going to the receiving position.

Toushi served. Ryoma volleyed back.

"Oi, Ryoma!" snapped Toushi from across the court as he shot a topspin with precise control, aiming it at the edge of the court lines. Ryoma was too fast though, even under drone mode. The boy managed to return the ball.

"What?" Ryoma grunted back as he returned the ball.

"You suck, you know that?" Toushi sneered, giving a slice shot.

On the sidelines, Shinichi snorted, while Eiji and Asuka bit their fingers and gasped in surprise. Tachibana simply shook his head, getting the gist of where Toushi was going. Fuji and Tezuka remained expressionless, knowing that it was either this or nothing. They needed something to provoke Ryoma.

"You suck, not only as a best friend—"

Ryoma momentarily froze, failing to register Toushi rearing for the next shot.

"—but also as a sportsman and team member!"

Ryoma's eyes widened as the ball whizzed past the side of his head.

"30-15!"

Toushi landed gracefully from his smash, a half-sneer half-smirk painted on his tired—yet still handsome—face. He knew Ryoma's sore spots, and he understood that in order to wake him up, there was no other way but to let him experience the pain. It was the best wake-up call, anyways.

"You're dratted lucky, you know that?" snarled Toushi. By now, the whole court was listening to the exchange, silence pressing over the crowds. "You have Keigo's affection, Kevin's _love_, Fuji and Tezuka's entire focus, and even Yukimura-san and Sanada-san's favor! You're filthy rich, you're famous, you have _nothing_ to worry about in the world. And _yet_ you act like hell and heaven collided in front of your face and shattered your world!"

There was silence as Ryoma's hand twitched.

"And while you go 'drone mode' and ignore everyone else around you, you put your own reputation, your father's reputation, _Kevin's_ reputation—heck, your _whole team_'s reputation in jeopardy! And while I know that it is a certainty that your team will be the champions here in the Regionals, I know that by losing this game and ruining your team's straight win streak, you will lower the ratings for your team. Did you know that? I think not. You were too busy bawling your eyes out and being miserable anyways, right?"

Gasps, narrowed eyes, and murmurs greeted Toushi's statements. The people were all too muddled within the controversy unfolding on court that they failed to realize Hyotei and Rikkaidai arriving on opposite sides of the bleachers.

Keigo came up behind Tezuka and Fuji, before nudging the two and demanding status of the game. Tezuka relayed the story for Keigo while Renji and Inui happily converged together in one corner, not noticing a sulking Kaidoh and a glaring Momoshiro off to one side.

Meanwhile, Toushi continued his tirade.

"—here you fucking go playing his 'I'm-the-miserable-little-Ryoma' act and jeopardizing your team's standing while _insulting us, your opponents_!" snarled Toushi loudly. "Wake _up_, Ryoma!"

With that, Toushi served again, a sharp bullet-like ball whizzing across the court.

* * *

Kevin groaned as the nurse succeeded once _again_ in coercing him into taking the foul-tasting medicine.

_I wonder why those blasted chemists didn't bother improving the taste even if just marginally._

Beside him, Rinko chuckled, mussing his sun-kissed golden hair fondly. "Bear with it, Kevin, it's for purging your body of the possible viruses and bacteria."

"**_Damned parasites_**…" moaned Kevin, clutching at his shoulder. No matter how much he tried to suppress it, his instinct was to speak in English, his mother tongue. Every time he was in extreme pain, rage, or any other extreme emotional state, he reverted back to speaking English.

Nanako worriedly fussed over him. "Kevin-kun? Is it hurting?"

"No, _duh_," Kevin snorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Of course wounds don't hurt. Wounds aren't meant to hurt. Especially those big gaping ones that needed surgical treatment, or those nasty bullet wounds that rip apart your flesh and bleed you to death."

His tone, however sarcastic, lacked the venom and aggression. Nanako giggled, while Rinko merely chuckled amusedly.

"Well, I'm sure Ryoma and the others will be relieved to hear you've awakened," Rinko said with a motherly tone as he patted Kevin's head. "I'll tell them, but not now. I don't want them all rushing here to see you and ditching their games, which I'm sure they will."

Kevin remained silent and closed his eyes, recalling what he could from the previous night's events. The doctors had said his shoulder would be fine in two weeks when the wound closed. A little rehab and he'll be up and running again. There was no lasting damage.

_Boy, that has got to be the most heavenly sentence ever spoken to me in my entire life._

He couldn't even begin to bear to think about not being able to play tennis anymore, or even just not being able to play the caliber he used to play at. No, that was _absolutely_ unacceptable. He would throw a tantrum worthy of being dubbed Godzilla's tantrum if that was the news given to him.

_I wonder if the grandma and the little girl are safe… _

Kevin shifted slightly on his bed, his eyes reopening and landing on the bedside table. He tuned out Rinko and Nanako's conversation, contenting himself with his own thoughts. As the fluorescent light hit the fork lying on the plate on the bedside table, it glinted silver to Kevin's eyes.

_…silver…_

Kevin gasped.

"The necklace!" he exclaimed, startling the two women with him.

"W-Wha?"

"Kevin?"

"Oba-san, did you see a necklace with me? Did I have a necklace with me last night?!" Kevin suddenly asked, sitting up on the bed.

"H-Huh?" Rinko asked, befuddled. "I-I don't know! You'll have to ask Toushi, Kevin, he was the one with you the entire night and he was there when you were shot."

"…Toushi?"

"Yeah, weren't you together?" asked Rinko. "I thought you were shopping together or something."

"N-No, I was alone…" Kevin replied, startled by the fact that it was Toushi there and not Ryoma.

_Wait a second. Why am I thinking Ryoma would be there? Am I that far gone?_

"Really?" Nanako voiced. "I wonder how Toushi came to be with you during the accident then, ne."

"Sou da ne, they never really got around to tell us the whole story. Nanjiroh was too much in a hurry this morning that he didn't get to explain everything to me properly," muttered Rinko. Then, she turned to her second adoptive son. "But Kevin, you should really thank Toushi. He was here the entire night, and the doctors told me he was the one who took care of you and everything. I think Nanjiroh was also saying something about him struggling to get to you when you were shot…"

Kevin's mind blanked out.

_Toushi? Why was he with me? Why did he take care of me the whole night? Am I missing something?_

"You know, in a way, you two are kind of alike, ne, Kevin-kun," Nanako smiled. "Toushi-kun's almost like you are with Ryoma. Dedicated."

Then it clicked.

_Toushi… feels that way?_

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Second Revision Version)_

* * *

**(1)** In Japan, they call doctors 'sensei' as well, normally attaching it at the end of the name as an honorary for formality. Even though the word literally means 'teacher', it gives of a respectful air towards the doctors. After all, doctors are well-versed enough to be teachers.

An unlikely ending, I know. But well… I kinda figured it would be nifty to end it here.

(And my hands are aching, my neck is aching, my legs are aching from supporting the laptop, and I want to watch—well, more like re-watch—Rurouni Kenshin already.)

REVIEW!

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 03.06.07  
First Revision Version: 03.09.07  
Second Revision Version: 03.11.07 _


	21. Step Twenty One: One Problem After

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Right. So. Spring break's begun. Joy. No more classes, no more tests. Let's see if I can improve my performance in this chapter. Last chapter had a _lot_ of mistakes in it. Pardon this unworthy one.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Twenty-One:** **One Problem After Another**  
_(First Revision Edition)_

* * *

"This is _not_ good," frowned Fuji, watching the fight progress.

Ryoma was holding up against Toushi firmly, but showed no indication of winning either. Right now, the chess master's game was on intentional stalemate, and it looked like the said chess master had no intentions of letting the game move until Ryoma came to his senses.

"Definitely not good," agreed Momoshiro, watching Ryoma struggle to return each shot from Toushi.

"Ryoma is being pressured by Toushi's well-controlled and well-placed shots," Inui started deducting. "The standing fact that Toushi does not want the fight to end quickly until Ryoma gives in is constricting as well, because normally opponents aim for a finish. This game is aiming to stretch longer. That will also draw on both players' stamina."

"However, Toushi is also pressured because of the difficulty of actually maintaining the fight on the brink and not letting himself slip. Even just one shot will jeopardize the game play, and this is what pressures him," Renji continued for Inui seamlessly. On the sidelines, Kaidoh's scowl deepened as Renji and Inui continued to talk, the Seigaku's data player completely ignoring the dubbed snake.

Kawamura gave a somewhat uncertain chuckle. "Ryoma always seems to get the best and hardest matches, ne," he remarked.

"Poor ochibi," sniffled Eiji in mock sympathy.

"Actually, these intense matches help shape him into a good player," Nanjiroh hummed, flipping his magazine. "It hones his abilities and keeps him on his toes. Each opponent he defeats adds another milestone to his records, and each milestone added means a greater hurdle ahead. A greater hurdle means continuous inspiration, and continuous inspiration means success and lack of boredom."

"That kind of gives me the impression that you somehow knew this was going to happen, Nan-ji-chan," Keigo drawled lazily. "I'm surprised you've actually thought beyond than what I'd expected you to."

"Hmm," shrugged Nanjiroh. "He'll be fine. I didn't teach him everything for nothing. He just needs to know how to apply everything I taught him. It's more than enough. These experiences are applications. Kind of like solving a math problem."

The gathered players silently regarded the unperturbed coach with respectful stares, but said coach remained impervious to them. (Or maybe he was just too enamored with the naked girls on the magazine to notice…)

"Ha-nya?" Eiji muttered. "Is it just me, or is the play starting to change?"

Eyes trailed back to the game and watched Ryoma perform a perfect twist serve that lacked passion, having just won one game. Toushi returned the ball with stronger fire and fervor, but Ryoma replied half-heartedly. Toushi hissed in frustration, before shooting a harder shot.

"Ryoma's starting to give way," Fuji sighed. Having remained silent for the majority of the game, he and Tezuka were silently observing the young object of their affections slowly deteriorate under the pervasive chess master he was going against.

"Ooooh no," Keigo drew out, shaking his head. He pulled out his phone. "If Kairou can't do this, then there's only one other person who can."

He dialed.

* * *

Momoshiro grunted in annoyance as the heat of the summer sun hit the side of his leg. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, and he wiped it off with a swipe of the back of his hand. The collar of his jersey itched against his already irritated collarbone, and his neck was slightly red from abrasion because of a misguided ball that whizzed by him earlier from his and Kaidoh's game with Kamio and Shinji.

His neck and his collarbone were not the only ones irritated, though.

He blankly stared at the courts where Toushi was pounding Ryoma slowly and painstakingly, trying to get sense through the thick skull of the pigheaded younger teen. Ryoma looked like he was starting to give to Toushi's insistent will.

He released a heavy sigh.

He was not in the mood for all this drama today.

No; he had his own drama to deal with.

He threw a heated but unnoticed glare at Inui, who was happily chattering away with Renji in some foreign language he refused to recognize (because with the long scientific and overbearingly deep words, he swore it no longer was Japanese).

In all honesty, Inui was a smart and respectable guy. The said player was a very reliable and responsible person, and also a very good friend. He was a priceless asset to Seigaku, no matter how horrible those Inui Juices were. Even Momoshiro admitted that.

However, for all his extensive knowledge and the surely sprawling brain inside his big head, Inui didn't even _realize_ what was happening right before his very eyes.

Exasperatedly, Momoshiro rubbed at his brow.

"Nya, Momo, daijoubu?" asked a certain voice he knew all too well. All eyes swerved towards Momoshiro—except Fuji, Tezuka, and a certain Hyotei captain's affixed eyes—in concern.

"Huh? A-Aa, senpai, daijoubu," nodded Momoshiro, chuckling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head. "I think it's just the heat getting to me."

"Sou ka," nodded Oishi, apparently relieved. The worrywart syndrome was rearing its ugly head again. "If that's so, then drink some water, Momo. We don't want you dehydrating, do we? What with all this heat, it's a high possibility…"

Momoshiro absently drank from the cold water bottle Oishi had procured from the team's ice box, not listening to or heeding the fussing Oishi any attention at all. His eyes remained trained on the match, but he didn't register what was happening as the cool water slid down his throat and temporarily burned his innards with ice.

Very much like how Kaidoh must have been feeling since Inui had started ignoring him.

He sighed, chancing a glance at Kaidoh, who was still scowling deeply—thought it was not obvious to an untrained eye who only sees Kaidoh's scowl as a fixed factor on that intimidating face—before turning his eyes back to the game again.

_Well, I'll be damned if I let this go on any longer._

He clutched the water bottle in his hands determinedly.

_You had your chance and you threw it away, Inui-senpai. Regret it all you want later, but now it's _my_ turn to steal a point._

* * *

"Moshi moshi?" Kevin rasped through the receiver, his throat still irritated from the burn of the hot soup Rinko was feeding him. His phone just suddenly went off—apparently Toushi even got around charging the thing the previous night—where it was on the bedside table, startling the three of them inside the small hospital room.

"Kevin, it's me," a familiar voice came through the phone.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. Normally, that voice was accompanied by either its usual arrogant sneer or an overly pompous tone of speaking. This time, though, there was only a flat tone. He knew all too well what flat meant.

"What's wrong?" Kevin immediately replied.

That earned a half-hearted chuckle from the other side. "I'm going to ignore the fact that you recognized the situation immediately without even asking or being told," Keigo said. "For now, there's a heavier matter at hand."

"Huh? Aren't you at a match or something?" Kevin deducted, glancing at the wall clock ticking away on the opposite wall.

"Exactly," Keigo confirmed. "It's Ryoma. He's being his stupid self again."

"Eh… stupid self…?" Kevin repeated slowly, his muddled brain—he inwardly cursed the drowsing medicine—trying to process the information faster.

There came a sigh. "This is exactly why I hate painkillers," the young Atobe grumbled from the other side. "To put it bluntly: Ryoma's blaming himself for what happened to you—"

"That's stupid, I did this on my own. He had nothing to do with it!" Kevin protested indignantly, almost upending the bowl of soup sitting on a bed table that was settled on his lap. Rinko and Nanako stared at each other dubiously.

"As I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted," Keigo exasperatedly continued. "He's blaming himself for what happened, and now his play is more than suffering—it's bordering _less _than _amateur_—"

"WHAT?!" Kevin exploded, this time successfully upending the bowl despite the women's cries of warnings. "He's a fucking pro, for goodness' sake! He should know better than letting his emotions get in his game play's way!"

A sharp hiss came from the other side. "_Again_, as I was saying before I was _very rudely interrupted_," Keigo ground through the phone. "He's blaming himself for what happened, his play is suffering, and he's losing against Kairou who is trying hard to knock him off his miserable little tantrum!"

"T-Toushi?" Kevin repeated, silenced as the name of the person he's been pondering over for well over an hour now popped up in the conversation.

"Yes, _Toushi_, your faithful friend," Keigo sighed. "You'd better come up with some plan to solve this and tell me soon before this gets out of hand."

There was a moment of silence as a million thoughts ran through Kevin's mind, all cloud covering his sensibility disappearing. Toushi and Ryoma were playing a match. Toushi was trying to wake Ryoma up. Ryoma was blaming himself and losing. Toushi loved him. Ryoma was guilty over him. Toushi was there. Ryoma was not.

Kevin flipped the phone close without so much as a goodbye, before pushing the blanket off his lap and struggling to get off the bed.

"Wait, what do you think you're doing?" Rinko shrieked. "Kevin!"

"Tatsuya!" barked Kevin towards the door, where he knew Keigo's bodyguards, maids, and chauffeurs sat waiting for the next order. There was the sound of scrambling from outside, before the long-haired young new chauffeur entered the room, a cigarette smoking between his fingers.

"You called, Kevin-sama?" Tatsuya smirked arrogantly, leaning against the door. Kevin had the briefest impression of Keigo for a moment there, before he shook his head to clear it. There was not time to waste.

"Take me to the Regionals," Kevin said, standing and snatching a white and red clean jersey from the bedside table.

Tatsuya took a long drag. "Ai-yo!"

* * *

Ryoma panted, bracing his palms against his knees as he bowed his head. He felt the glaring sun beating down against his back, drowning him in suffocating warmth. Sweat rolled off his neck, dripping to the ground in huge rivulets. For a moment there, he thought he imagined it sizzling into thin air from the sheer heat of summer.

Ryoma picked up his racket from where it was laying on the ground, the feeling of the handle familiar and yet at the same time foreign to him. He didn't know why it should be foreign, though; he was a tennis player, and he played tennis ten times a day. And on top of that, this was his favorite racket as well.

He dragged himself towards the benches, where the heavenly cool water was waiting for him, eager to please his parched throat. Tezuka had called for a timeout, seeing as both he and Toushi had dragged on the stalemate into the early noon. The two of them were starting to tire out; a stalemate in tennis was never a good thing for stamina, and though he didn't lack in that department, this was starting to take much too long.

He grabbed the water from Horio's hand, chugging it greedily.

"Nya, daijoubu, ochibi?" Eiji asked, cocking his head to the side. "You look really tired. You're sweating like hell."

"If I wasn't sweating, then it would become worrying, Kikumaru-senpai," Ryoma sighed, before taking another bottle from Katsuo and this time pouring it over his head. He let the cold dollops of water cascade against his heated skin, reveling in the wonderful feeling of being recharged and cooled down. He sank into the bench.

"Maa, if the brat still has enough energy to be sarcastic, then he's fine," Momoshiro snorted, rubbing his knuckles against Ryoma's head.

Ryoma moved his head and grumbled slightly while keeping his eyes closed, trying to get away from the offending hands, before he felt another pair of hands—softer and gentler this time—settling on his face, one on his cheek and another on his forehead. The hands patted his hair back from his face and wiped his sweat off with a towel.

"Ryoma-chan, drink more water," a gentle voice came softly.

Inwardly, Ryoma curled in pleasure. _Syuusuke_. Oh, how he missed being with him. Where did everything go wrong in the first place? He wanted things back to the way they used to be—no pressure, no stress. Just them.

Ryoma wordlessly accepted another bottle of water, this time drinking it at a much slower pace. His breathing was starting to return to normal; his muscles were starting to subside the spastic twitching they often do after the intense work-out. This meant that he was starting to return into readiness.

"Don't give up, Ryoma," another stronger, more masculine voice came from a ways behind him. He knew it was Tezuka. "Make sure you don't give in under the pressure."

"Sou, sou!" Eiji bounced. "Sou, you shouldn't give up, sou!"

"Aa, we have faith in you, Ryoma," Oishi backed.

Ryoma chuckled weakly. "He's pressuring me."

"We can see that, Ryoma," Fuji's voice came again. Had Ryoma been looking, he would've seen the relieved glance the tensai exchanged with the equally relieved captain. "But surely you remember what to do under pressure. You've played under this situation a billion times. Even Nanjiroh-sensei plays you in even _harder_ circumstances. What makes this situation so different, Ryoma?"

"When you find the answer to that question, you've found the thorn in your play," Tezuka continued for Fuji. "Pull that thorn out and you'll win. You know this as well as I do, Ryoma."

Ryoma grunted in agreement, turning the situation upside down and over around in his head to try and find a hole. There had to be _something…_

"The game will resume in two minutes! Players, please return to the court!"

Ryoma sighed, opening his eyes and rising from his seat. He stretched his back and arms, as well as his legs, before readjusting his cap. He tapped his shoed toes against the ground, making sure his sports shoes were snugly fit against his foot. He was overly glad that it was one of those strapped shoes, instead of the laced ones. Losing by tripping over his shoelaces was one thing he didn't ever want to experience.

"Best of luck, Ryoma," Fuji murmured from behind him, wrapping slender arms around his torso and placing a soft, almost imperceptible kiss against the shell of his ear. To a normal bystander, it would look like the tensai was simply whispering something to the younger player.

"A-Aa… arigato," Ryoma muttered back.

Ryoma felt a ghost of a smile pass through Fuji's face, and something inside him sagged in joy. Fuji slowly retracted his arms, resuming his unbreakable smiling face. With a pat on the shoulder, he sent Ryoma off.

"How is it?" Oishi worriedly whispered as soon as Ryoma was out of earshot.

"Toushi's doing a good job," Tezuka deducted silently, seeing the first real smile grace Fuji's face for the first time in a whole week. "A little more prodding is what we need."

"Not to worry, not to worry," Keigo sighed, suddenly reappearing behind Tezuka and Fuji. He pocketed his phone. "Ore-sama made sure your salvation comes."

"…"

"Eh?"

* * *

Toushi bounced the ball, holding it in his hands at irregular intervals and twisting his wrist experimentally, as if deciding what type of serve he should use. Ryoma had managed to steal one game; it was now 4-2. It was still to his favor, but Ryoma was catching up. He'd watched enough of Ryoma's games to know that when the young prodigy started rearing his talent's ugly head, there was no stopping it.

_Well, we'll see if you can manage it under this situation, ne._

Toushi tossed the ball and served his infamous Knight Serve. It was named after a traditional chess move—the first move of the knight. Rules say that the knight could 'jump' over the pawns and does not need any openings to perform the first move.

And there was another catch in this serve.

Toushi watched as Ryoma's eyes widened. The ball swerved in midair towards the side of the courts, forming an L-shaped route.

_The knight's move._

"15-0!"

Ryoma huffed in the other court, raising his racket and tapping his shoulder with it lightly, before returning to receiving position. Toushi observed.

_Right now, I'm willing to let go of this game and give it over to you. I've already talked this over with Tachibana-buchou. My goal right now is to wake you up. Your self-centered drama is over now, Ryoma. Wake up._

And Toushi could see it was working. Ryoma was starting to fight back again. Before the timeout, the younger player had been overly depressed—or at least that was what Toushi could see—and was starting to give way. The timeout, however, seemed to have done him good. He had to hand it to Fuji and Tezuka. Those two really had an immense influence on the otherwise untouchable Echizen Ryoma.

Then he snorted.

_Guess I should be proud of myself too, huh. Now, because of this, I'm among those select few who can touch the untouchable; to join the ranks of Atobe, Kevin, Fuji, Tezuka, and Nanjiroh,_ he smiled bitterly, _can be an incredibly unfortunate and tiring thing._

He returned a sharp shot across the court, pleased by the fact that Ryoma was starting to turn the pressure against him.

_Now to hold steady until he manages to fully wake up…_

* * *

Kevin strode down the hallways of the hospital, having changed from the hospital robes into a fresh set of clothes brought by someone the previous night. Rinko and Nanako was chasing after him, flustered at the sudden turn of events. Tatsuya, the chauffeur, had already ran down to the outside parking to get the car ready, leaving with an irritatingly amused smile on his face.

"Kevin, wait—!" Rinko gasped as she managed to catch up to the younger boy. Behind her, Nanako wondered if Kevin was really wounded. The youth moved as fluidly as he had without the wound. Rinko grabbed Kevin's well shoulder and turned him around, stopping him. "Where do you think you're going?!"

"To Tokyo Sports Arena," Kevin answered with a clipped tone echoing finality.

"But your wound—"

"—is well enough," Kevin finished for Rinko. "Don't worry. I'm fine, oba-san. But I need to do this. I won't let that dunderhead ruin himself even more. I _can't_ let him!"

"Kevin…"

"I'll be sure to take care not to jostle my shoulder or dehisce the wound," Kevin reassured the elderly woman. "I'll be fine, oba-san. It's not something overly big."

Without even letting Rinko finish speaking, Kevin brushed forward and went down the hallway, heading straight for the staircase.

"…will he really be fine, oba-san?" Nanako asked. "Is it okay, letting him go like this?"

"It's not like we can do anything to stop him, Nanako-chan," sighed Rinko, kneading her forehead with her fingers. "Mataku, living with these tennis-crazed, overly passionate, testosterone-loaded men can really tire you out!"

Unable to stop her amusement, Nanako giggled. She watched Kevin's blonde head disappear down the stairs. "It's amusing, though," Nanako smiled. "They're amusing."

"Sou ne…"

Rinko heaved a heavy sigh. "Well… we'd better start concocting an excuse for Kevin's sudden disappearance. The doctor will surely want to know," she chuckled lightly, shaking her head.

* * *

"Can't we go any faster?" hustled Kevin as he agitatedly ground his teeth inside the car. He was holding his red phone in his hands. Once in a while he would clutch at his shoulder with a slight flinch, but thankfully, there was no blood. He was safe. (For now.)

"Gomen ne, Kevin-sama," Tatsuya hummed from the driver's seat. "Rules are rules. There are speed limits."

"Curse the speed limits," grumbled Kevin, stomping his feet childishly against the limousine's carpeted floor. Although they were already going at 60—which was almost above limits for Odaiba's local roads—it was still not fast enough.

"Patience is a virtue, Kevin-sama," Tatsuya once again hummed from the driver's seat.

Kevin growled. "Normally, I'm a very patient person. But right now, my patience is _thin_." He was really irritated, really annoyed, and most of all, really hassled. The frigging limousine was too _slow._

"Almost there, Kevin-sama," Tatsuya called in a sing-song voice. Kevin winced slightly as Tatsuya's happy-go-lucky demeanor reminded him of the boisterously loud Asuka. He suddenly felt an abrupt wave of pity for Shinichi.

(In the courts, Shinichi sneezed. _Damn… must be the flu._)

Tatsuya swerved abruptly to the left and passed a crowded parking lot, heading straight for the main entrance to the sports park. The car lurched to a stop as they arrived at the front steps to the park.

"Arigato na, Tatsuya!" Kevin called behind him as he disappeared in a blur of yellow and white, not even bothering to close the limousine's doors.

He rushed into the park and immediately headed straight for the tennis courts, knowing exactly which one the Seigaku team was playing at. Jostling through the throngs of people passing back and forth through the park, he carefully made his way towards the noisiest court as of current. He knew that it _had_ to be Seigaku's court. Hyotei had to be done playing already, seeing that Keigo called him earlier. He had an inkling that Rikkaidai was done as well, which naturally meant that only Seigaku and Fudou were the only ones left playing.

He eyed the red-clad players of Akayama Koto Gakkou who were all packing up and in turn, eyeing the noisy courts where Seigaku and Fudou were having their matches. Kevin recognized some of them—particularly that noisy first year with a clean cut—from two years ago, but he didn't have time to stop and greet them. It was clear now that all the other regions in the Kantou area were finished—they were the only ones left.

He winced and moved his bad shoulder out of the way as a crowd of spectators and students passed by heedlessly, bumping against him, jarring his injury. He cursed and strode faster. As soon as he reached the edges of the court where the fencewas separating the spectators from the team benches, he squeezed towards the fence and grasped on, his eyes immediately training on Ryoma.

And what he found horrified him.

"And for the second time…" Kevin sighed, before raising his voice. "_ECHIZEN RYOMA, WHAT THE **HELL** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING_?!"

The whole court froze.

Toushi dropped the ball in his hands.

Ryoma stumbled gearing on his one-footed Split Step.

Silence.

"F-Fault!" the referee called, recovering surprisingly quickly. "Fudou, service!"

But Toushi did not pick up his ball, and Ryoma did not move from his spot.

"Echizen Ryoma, this has got to be the _most_ dismal performance I have _ever_, _EVER_ seen in my _entire fucking life!_" roared Kevin.

(On the sidelines, Shinichi scratched his head. "Today seems to be filled with tirades and sermons. I wonder if it's some virus. I don't want to get infected.")

"Why the hell are you moping your ass on the court for, baka?!" Kevin continued. "I expected better from you. We have a _lot_ to talk about, but I am _not_ going to fucking _talk_ to you unless you fucking _win this game_—sorry, Toushi, we'll have to talk later too—which I'm _sure_ you can very well _do_! Get me? So pull your head from where the sun doesn't shine and win!"

And the entire court was still silent.

Keigo then chuckled from the sidelines. "Sou da, our beloved brat prince!" Keigo called. "You heard him! If you lose, I'll make sure to have you as Alice for dinner again!"

At that, Ryoma visibly flinched, while Kevin started roaring with laughter.

"That was the best dinner ever, Keigo!" Kevin howled. "How did you even manage to get him dressed as a loli?"

Keigo flipped his hair and with and smirked. "That's for ore-sama to know and for you to _never_ find out."

Eiji was about to ask what they were talking about, when the referee called again.

"Fudou, serve! Players, please resume the game!"

Toushi sighed and shook his head, before picking up the ball from the ground. He glanced at Ryoma, who was getting ready and tensing his muscles for the resuming of the game. He looked serious again—the spaced-off look was gone from his face.

Inwardly, Toushi scratched his head. Was it Kevin's tirade, or was it Keigo's threat? He had a strong, nagging feeling that no matter how much he wanted to believe it was the former, there was a higher possibility that it was the latter.

"Hyah!" he exclaimed, letting the Knight Serve go again.

And the ball whizzed back past him.

He grinned. "You're back, huh?" he called over to Ryoma.

"I get it now," muttered Ryoma as the referee announced the call and Toushi went back to service position. They ignored the rest of the cheers, the egging, the shouts. "I get the flaw. I see what went wrong."

"And what was it?" asked Toushi, serving.

Ryoma volleyed the ball back. "I forgot how to see and speak."

"4-3!"

"That you did," Toushi snorted. "But do me a favor and forget to speak for a few more minutes, hey? At least until we finish?"

Ryoma grinned from the other side of the court. "Sure."

* * *

Ryoma wanted to bash his head in. He grabbed the towel from Horio and furiously scrubbed his face free of sweat. All around him, his teammates were commending him for his awesome comeback. He couldn't hear them, though. It was as if he woke up for the first time from a long, long hazy dream.

Ever since he found out that Fuji and Tezuka were in a relationship and didn't tell him, he had submerged himself into this dream. He wasn't really awake during those times. It was why he had to rely so wholly on Keigo. He was being stupid. And because he was being stupid, he didn't even give Fuji or Tezuka a chance to explain themselves. Because he was being stupid, he didn't see Kevin, and he didn't make use of his otherwise very sharp tact.

He was too deeply hurt.

And he was too traumatized to work under the hurt. So inside, he did what he normally does to block the pain: he tried his best to shut down. He forgot how to function properly. It wasn't obvious during the training periods; even though he was on auto-drone, he was a _good_ auto-drone. The training, he was used to.

However, the real games were different.

Toushi saw through him. Toushi saw that he was not himself. Toushi _knew_. Especially after what happened with Kevin. Kevin knew as well, and Keigo. They were the only ones supposed to know. But Toushi saw, and tried to wake him. He started to wake, but it wasn't enough. He needed a stimulus.

And he got his stimulus, alright. Thankfully, it wasn't too late yet. He managed to win the game.

But why was he traumatized in the first place?

"Ryoma," Keigo's voice came. A familiar, comforting hand rested on his shoulder. "I think you were too tired of hurting, that's why."

It was a brief murmur, unheard to his other teammates. It was meant only for his own ears. Not for no one else.

Yet it explained everything.

"Ryoga, huh," muttered Ryoma. "So after all these years of healing, it still wasn't enough? Enough to forget, to overcome?"

"Overcoming and forgetting are two different things, Ryoma," another gentle voice came.

Ryoma's head snapped up. "Fu—Fuji-s-senpai…"

"I don't know what you and Atobe are talking about, but what I do know is that overcoming and forgetting are two different things," Fuji continued. "Forgetting means you're erasing it totally from your memory. That's that. Getting rid of it far enough that you won't be able to see whatever it is ever again."

"Huh?"

"Overcoming, meanwhile," Fuji explained with a smile. "It's a completely different thing. Overcoming means _not_ forgetting. _Not_ forgetting, and instead _learning_ from the experience, and treating it as something of the past. Inerasable and unforgettable, yes. Might be painful, for sure. But it's there. And it's not going away. Which leaves you with one choice: _learn and accept._"

"…"

"Maybe, whatever it was, you failed to accept," Fuji sighed, mussing Ryoma's hair as the others started to pack up. "Maybe, whatever it was, you failed to learn from. It must have hurt really badly, and the pain prevented you from treating it as a learning experience. Instead, you tried to forget. You buried it. And when you were hurt again—and about that, we need to talk later—the trauma from the old experience came up, and swallowed you whole."

"And so, you froze," Tezuka finished for Fuji. "You should know that whatever it is, Ryoma, we're listening. We're here for you."

Ryoma looked up to Tezuka and Fuji, then to Keigo, who gave him a small encouraging smile.

"The past is the past, Ryoma," Keigo sighed, giving him half a comforting hug. "You mustn't let it consume and overwhelm you."

"Exactly," another voice came. Ryoma swiveled on his place and came face to face with Kevin's startling blue eyes. "Ryoma, we have to talk."

Ryoma gulped.

* * *

Momoshiro watched the two first years walk away, the blonde head leading the way. He sighed, finally relieved that today's drama revolving around Ryoma was coming to a close. He was even _more_ relieved that the drama was coming to a close _away_ from him. He honestly didn't think he could take any more.

He had nothing against Ryoma, make no mistake, he was just frustrated with another matter. He was in fact sympathetic for Ryoma, and if there was anything he could've done to help, he would've. Sadly, though, right now, Ryoma was within reach for only four—no, _five_ people: Kevin, Atobe, Tezuka-buchou, Fuji-senpai, and the white head Toushi; that is if he was no longer avoiding or ignoring Tezuka-buchou and Fuji-sempai.

Though that was not his problem, and he didn't want to deal with it.

He chanced a glance at Kaidoh, who was lagging behind the group as they walked towards the lounge rooms with Rikkaidai, Fudou, and Hyotei. There was chatting, loud talking, screaming and screeching (on Eiji and Gakuto's part), and lots of _Engrish yerring_ (curse whoever gave Taka-san a racket). Under normal circumstances, he would've been a part of this rowdy group. However, right now he was in no mood to conflagrate alongside them.

"Oi, mamushi yo," he slowed, falling into step with Kaidoh. The dubbed snake made no move to indicate hearing Momoshiro. The power player, however, knew very well that the snake was listening. "I'm itching. Care for a game?"

"Fsssh, go away, I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now," Kaidoh grumbled, barely audible but audible enough for Momoshiro.

"Oh, _come on_, you're not _chickening_ out, are you?" mocked Momoshiro. He knew it would work.

"Nandatou?" Kaidoh snarled aggressively, his frustration and anger surfacing and redirecting towards Momoshiro. "Bring it on, peach butt!"

"Now, _that's_ more like it," grinned Momoshiro, before turning towards the others who were two steps ahead of them. "Do I let them know we're playing?"

"They're not our babysitters. Let's go," hissed Kaidoh, tugging forcefully on the back of Momoshiro's collar and dragging the said player by the jersey towards one of the empty, secluded courts.

"Oi, oi—matte, mamushi, don't ruin my jersey!" exclaimed Momoshiro, struggling free from Kaidoh's grasp and rearranging his clothes. He then grumbled under his breath, following after his long time rival and closest friend (though they'd both never admit it to anyone).

They took no time in reaching the empty court. As soon as they entered, Kaidoh dumped his bags on the benches and pulled out his racket and a few balls. Momoshiro shrugged and did the same, before proceeding to face the hissing snake on court by the nets.

"Rough or smooth?" asked Momoshiro, tipping his racket on the opposite side of the court and holding it upright by the handle.

"Rough."

The racket spun as Momoshiro twisted and let go.

"Rough. Your serve," announced Momoshiro after his racket clattered to the ground. He picked it up, bending over the net, before walking to receiving point. "Don't hold back on me, mamushi yo."

"Of course," snorted Kaidoh as if it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

They played.

* * *

"Kevin?" voiced Ryoma as they stopped under a tree beside one of the woody paths in the sports park. The others were waiting for them by the lounge rooms, which were near the entrance gates. Ryoma was pretty sure Momoshiro was once again emptying his wallets buying burgers from the stands nearby. The two of them—him and Kevin—had separated from the group a while back, and took an alternate route for privacy.

Kevin sighed. "Ryoma…" muttered the blonde, flexing his hand experimentally as if it was numb. "…about yesterday—"

"I'm sorry!" Ryoma immediately said, sounding rushed and a bit flustered. He didn't really have experience in the apology area. He had never really needed it. "I'm… really sorry, I should've—"

"No! No, no, _I_ shouldn't have shouted at you—"

"But you had the right to do it, and I was being stupid—"

"No, _I_ was being stupid, and I even hit you, and—"

"I'm sure I deserved it, I mean, I've been moping miserably for the past few weeks—"

"And you were so depressed, I just had to add to your problems—"

"I dumped all my problems on you and Keigo, not even thinking that you had your own problems to deal with—"

"I'd gladly deal with your problems with you; I'm your best friend—"

"And I'm such a rotten best friend; I didn't even see that our relationship was starting to become one-sided with my whining—"

"Wait, wait, wait!!" Kevin stopped the two-sided tirade. Ryoma was slightly flustered and panting, while Kevin was bemusedly chuckling. "We're getting nowhere."

"…sou ne," Ryoma chuckled nervously, scratching the side of his head.

"How about we explain one at a time?" Kevin offered. "No distractions until finished. You can go first."

Ryoma pouted. "Oi, that's unfair, you know," Ryoma grumbled. "Why do _I_ go first?"

"Well, I don't know…" Kevin snorted.

"Fine," Ryoma sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the tree trunk. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, resting it against the trunk as well. "I'm just… I'm sorry, okay? I… didn't mean to be so insensitive and all… and I didn't mean to bother you with all my problems in life. I really didn't mean to hurt you and all… and I just wanted… attention, I guess. You know me. I've always been like this."

Kevin, as promised, remained silent, even though he looked as if he wanted to say something.

"I'm just…" Ryoma started, trailing off. He sighed and bowed his head, rubbing it as if trying to get it to work properly. "I'm just frustrated, I guess. Tired of dealing with all the problems. And I was hurt… because Fuji and Tezuka didn't tell me. And… like they said, the memory of another hurt from the past—I'm sure you know what I'm talking about—came up and just swallowed me. And, I guess, just like last time, I started getting dependent on you and on Keigo again, even if I promised myself I won't ever repeat that again."

Ryoma chuckled dryly. "I'm the worst, aren't I?"

"Not really," muttered Kevin. "You just want to be happy. Who doesn't? Even _I_ want to be happy."

"But you're willing to sacrifice your happiness for mine," Ryoma immediately said, without even thinking. A split-second later he cursed and slapped his mouth.

"A-About that…" Kevin started, wringing his wrists. This time, it was _his_ turn to be nervous. "…you don't have to think about that, Ryoma. Just let it be. I'm used to it. I mean, I knew that you wanted Fuji and Tezuka long ago, and I understand that. I respect that. Even if… even if I feel this way for you, I know it won't work out because you love somebody else already. I'm alright with it. I can cope."

"Can you really?" Ryoma asked worriedly. "Look, I don't want my best friend bailing out on me."

"No way!" Kevin exploded in outrage. "I'll _never_ bail out on you! Shame on you for suggesting that, Ryoma!"

"Right, right, gomen," Ryoma chuckled, shaking his head and holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"Anyways…" Kevin sighed, continuing. "Well… I can deal."

"You _really_ sure?" Ryoma asked again. "I… look, Kevin, when we became best friends, I promised myself I wouldn't hurt you any more. God knows you've been through enough, and you're a wonderful friend and all…" he said, trailing off again. He abashedly looked down. He was no good with any of these emotional stuff.

"I was hurt at first, Ryoma," Kevin chuckled. "I can't say I wasn't; that's hypocrisy. And I still hurt from time to time, sure. But I've found a way I can recover."

"Huh?"

"Toushi," Kevin started, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, as if he was hesitant to say it out loud and confirm it as a truth to himself. "Toushi… feels that way for me. And… he's a good guy and… I want to give him a chance."

"…"

"You _do_ approve, right, Ryoma?" Kevin asked suddenly, looking up at Ryoma with hopeful, pleading eyes. "I want to give it a try."

"You mean…" Ryoma choked out. "You mean you _never_ noticed until _now_?!"

"…eh?"

Ryoma exploded in laughter. "I can't believe this! You never noticed? Until now, you never noticed him? Oh my god, this is precious, Kevin, you're as blind as I am!" Ryoma gasped out in midst of bouts of laughter. "You don't have any right to jest that I'm blind any longer!!"

Kevin's face faulted and he clenched a fist, closing his eyes in annoyance. Sometimes, Ryoma was just downright annoying. It must be the Echizen gene.

"Ryoma, shut it before I pummel you," Kevin growled.

But Ryoma just continued laughing. "Oooh, this is rich! Kevin didn't notice! Oh god, I _have_ to tell Keigo—"

"I think he already knows," Kevin sulked. He hated being poked fun at.

"Oh, come on, Kev," laughed Ryoma. "Lighten up. It's better to be blind than overly perceptive, isn't it? I think so. Hell, being as perceptive as Syuusuke kind of gives me the creeps," he said, slinging an arm around Kevin's neck and making sure to avoid his bad shoulder. He started walking towards the direction of the lounge rooms. "Just as long as you're happy, I'm happy. And tell him I'll fucking skin him alive if he so much as tries to hurt one hair on your frigging peroxide head."

"Oi! I'm a natural blonde!"

Ryoma chuckled.

"This spat is fixed, then," sighed Kevin. "I lost the gift I bought for you, though. I bought it in the jewelry store I was shot at when I was shot… I guess I dropped it or something…"

"We can always go and check back if they got it and it's still there," shrugged Ryoma as they moved through the crowds. For once, he was the one slung over Kevin, and not the other way around like it normally was.

"Sou ne," sighed Kevin. "Oh well… make sure you fix your spat with Fuji and Tezuka soon. Now that you've woken up—thank _God_ you have—you should be able to fix it just fine. Talk with them, confront them, anything…"

"Yeah," nodded Ryoma, bowing his head momentarily. "Yeah, I guess I'll have to."

"Good. Now go and castrate Keigo for ever suggesting you dressing up as Alice again."

* * *

Keigo chuckled, observing the two reunited best friends approach them. The four teams minus Kevin and Ryoma (and two mysteriously missing rival sophomores from Seigaku as well) were sitting out on the grass under the trees near the entrance gates. The lounge room was full as expected, considering the whole of Tokyo's high school and middle school Regionals were being held in one park. It had to be suicide for the organizers of the competitions, having both high school and middle school together. Whoever suggested the idea was an imbecile, in Keigo's opinion.

Keigo watched as Ryoma momentarily stopped and dragged Kevin over to the vending machines, most definitely to buy Ponta. Kevin, as usual, was whining and complaining about something (and Keigo knew it was definitely Ryoma's addiction to Ponta) while waiting impatiently for Ryoma to finish. Kevin really had no right to complain though, seeing as he had an incurable sweet tooth himself.

"It's good to see they're back together," Yukimura observed. "I was a bit worried seeing Kevin and Ryoma with a rift in between them."

Keigo chuckled. "Yes, quite an unsettling thought, that was."

"Oii, minna!" yelled Kevin, waving to them while grinning like an idiot. Eiji, who was grinning just as widely and idiotically, waved and yelled back. Gakuto made some snide remark, and that got the two acrobats into another catfight yet again.

Kevin and Ryoma approached, one laughing lively and another gulping down a can of Ponta like there was no tomorrow. As soon as one can was finished, it was thrown away and another one was opened.

"Ryoma-chan, slow down," Fuji chuckled, rising and ushering Ryoma towards a vacant spot in between his seat and Tezuka's. He smiled towards Kevin, who smiled and nodded back.

"Can't help it," Ryoma grumbled, taking another long gulp. "Thirsty."

Fuji noted the slight coldness in Ryoma's demeanor, but bore it. He was just glad that they were back on conversational basis. It was hard enough not to _see_ Ryoma, but not to _talk_ was even harder. Now that he was talking again, he wasn't complaining.

"…listen, F-Fuji-senpai, buchou," Ryoma silently started as he put down his can of Ponta and fidgeted in his seat between Fuji and Tezuka. Eiji and Gakuto's yelling was turning up volume and was effectively masking their conversation.

"Hmm?"

"I… we… we need to talk," muttered Ryoma. "Maybe… maybe later, when there are no more distractions…? Somewhere private?"

Fuji glanced at Tezuka over Ryoma's head. The captain nodded tightly.

"Sure, Ryoma-chan," Fuji agreed, petting Ryoma's head and smiling at the purr that came, however hesitant. "How about the beach tonight?"

"U-Un," nodded Ryoma, meekly giving into the petting.

A few feet and two noisy acrobats away, Keigo smiled.

Meanwhile, Kevin sighed and sank down beside Toushi, who was sitting silently under a tree with his eyes closed. The other players had just finished interviewing him and asking him questions about the incident, as well as bidding him fast recovery. He had also finished talking to Oishi to reconfirm his health and his inclusion for the Provincial games. The vice-captain was preoccupied with Eiji, though, so the 'talk' didn't really last longer than a 'hi' and a responding 'hello'.

Thank god.

"Thanks," murmured Kevin.

There was silence, before Toushi spoke, "What for?"

"For being there," Kevin said silently.

Toushi snorted. "I told you I was your friend. You don't need to thank me for such things."

"Yes, I do," Kevin argued. "Talking is important in a relationship, no matter what kind. Look where silence got Fuji, Ryoma, and Tezuka."

Toushi merely grunted, and remained still for a few seconds, before opening his eyes. "Oh, yeah, I forgot," he sheepishly chuckled, before pulling his bag towards him and rummaging inside one of the pockets.

"What is it?" Kevin asked curiously.

"Something of yours," Toushi muttered softly. "Ah. Here it is," he said, pulling out a silver necklace. He handed it to Kevin. "There you go."

Kevin's eyes widened as the necklace in his palm glinted under the sunlight. "Where…?"

"The girl you saved gave it to me," Toushi said, closing his bag and leaning back against the tree. "She said it fell from your hand when you were shot."

Kevin looked back at the necklace, watching the tiger eye stones glint under the sunlight. "Thanks, Tou. You're really a wonder."

Toushi snorted. "Don't say that. I get the impression you've got an eye on me."

Kevin grinned up at him and jested lightly, "And what if I do?"

Toushi raised an eyebrow. "Don't tempt me, Kev."

Kevin simply laughed. _We can talk later. There are too many distractions here. I'll talk to him later; we share the same room, after all._

"Hunyaaaaaaaaa, where is Momochin and Kaidoh?!" exploded Eiji.

"Maybe they're in some closet doing some…you know… stuff," Ryoma suggested, quirking his eyebrows playfully, lifting the tab of his third Ponta.

"…"

"MOMOCHIN AND KAIDOH?!"

"Ara… now you've caused trouble, Ryoma-chan," Yukimura voiced.

"What can I say? He learned from the master," came a haughty, self-assured reply. "Ore-sama no bigi ni yoi na."

"Che. Monkey kings are only there for practice runs."

Ryoma childishly stuck a tongue out to the vain diva, making the aforementioned protest indignantly. Indeed, Echizen Ryoma was back; fully alive and eager to kick.

* * *

Momoshiro panted as he braced his palms on his knees, holding himself up just barely. Kaidoh was just as worn out as he was, sitting on his butt on the ground with his head between his knees and breathing hard. Their short game was intense, and even though it had only lasted barely seven minutes, they had managed to complete the game. It had ended 7-5 for Kaidoh, making them an even 126-126.

The two of them kept track of _all_ their competitions with each other, counting each win and each loss. Those were the only numbers Momoshiro ever really paid attention to and kept track of even throughout the years.

He dragged himself to the benches and pulled two big bottles of cool water, before going to Kaidoh and nudging his arm with one. "Drink up, mamushi."

Kaidoh grunted and accepted the bottle of water, before greedily gulping half down in a matter of seconds. The rest of the half, he dumped over his head. Momoshiro did the same, letting the rivulets of water cascade down against his heated skin. He sank down beside Kaidoh, trying to regain his breath as his body started to work back towards homeostasis.

"You're pretty wired up today, aren't ya, mamushi," Momoshiro chuckled faintly, letting his half-wet hair drip on the ground as he bowed his head.

"Fssssshhhh…"

There was silence.

"Inui-senpai's being an idiot," Momoshiro sighed silently, his voice almost down to a whisper. "An utter idiot, no matter how smart he is."

Kaidoh was silent for a while, before chortling bemusedly. "A rare agreement, peach butt," he replied. "Should've known you would notice."

"'Course!" Momoshiro sniffed superiorly. "I wasn't your rival for ages for nothing, you know. I know your habits and expressions better than anyone else does. I can even claim that over Inui-senpai."

Kaidoh just snorted, and then there was silence between them again.

"Ne, mamushi."

"Mm?"

"If ever you need anything, I'm right here, ok? I might not be the best and smartest person, but I'm right here."

A pause.

"…aa. Arigato."

* * *

Ryoga looked up at the huge Atobe Odaiba Manor. His perch from the front gates made it seem insanely huge. (Or maybe it was just really insanely huge.)

"Huaa."

He stared, openmouthed, at the manor looming down above him, casting shadows over him as the sun started setting over the horizon. He could tell that Ryoma and the other players were not home yet; the manor was silent and the upper floors were lightless. He knew, though, that servants were present, and that they were more than enough to accommodate him for now.

He had already harassed the door bell and the front gate's guards (who pitifully ended up a frustrated and crying lump of flesh near the gates), and the majordomo, he guessed, was currently walking down the path leading down to the front gate to greet him and probably ask what the hell he was doing 'dirtying the soil Atobe-sama walks on'.

From what he was seeing and hearing, it seemed the Atobe brat hadn't changed one bit; still as arrogant, self-centered, spoiled, and overly ostentatious as ever.

"Good evening," greeted the elderly majordomo, bowing slightly in front of Ryoga. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

"Yes," drawled the twenty-ish something black-haired tennis player. "Let me in, for starters. Serve me some food, afterwards. Give me someplace I can rest, since I just came from an overly exhausting ride from the US."

"Pardon me, sir, but I cannot simply do that without knowing who you are and what your business is with Keigo-bocchama."

Ryoga sighed. "Wakatta, wakatta. Echizen Ryoga. That name ring a bell?"

The majordomo was silent for a few seconds, before he nodded. "Yes, in fact, it does," the older man nodded, before sighing. "Very well. Please do come in. Echizen-sama is expecting you," he said, motioning towards the guards in the guard house beside the front gate. The electrically-operated gates opened slowly to let Ryoga in.

Ryoga walked a step behind the majordomo, eyeing the manor and surveying the front lawns as they approached the double oak front doors. He sighed and shook his head at the extravagance, before entering after the majordomo. He was led straight through the entrance hall and into a small room he bargained a lounge room for unknown and unexpected guests.

"Please take a seat, sir," the majordomo politely motioned towards the grand red sofas and wooden Victorian chairs. "A few servants will be down soon with some food for you. Keigo-bocchama, Echizen-sama, and the rest should be home soon. I am very sorry I cannot call and notify him of your arrival. There were strict orders not to call him unless it was a matter of life and death, sir."

"Ii, ii," Ryoga waved dismissively, sinking back into one of the sofas after dropping his bag down. He propped his legs up on the table in front of him, quite surprised that the majordomo made no comments. He guessed it was because there were thirty other teenagers inside the house who were all pretty rowdy and noisy that they got used to the uncouth behavior.

Just then, a maid bustled into the room. "Katsura-san, shounen-tachi are home," the maid said, addressing the majordomo. Katsura nodded and turned to Ryoga.

"They should be here shortly," the elderly man said, before bowing his way out of the room and going to greet his young master.

Ryoga chuckled and slumped back against the sofa, resting his head against the headrest. He closed his eyes and hummed silently, waiting patiently for his younger brother and the rest of the people to file in. Surely they would come immediately for him, seeing as he was a guest.

He wasn't disappointed.

No later than ten minutes later, there was the sound of bustling outside, and the voices of a crowd of young men echoed through the halls and into the lounge room. The door creaked open as the players filed in.

Ryoga opened his eyes and eyed the person who was leading the group—a red-haired bouncing ball of energy. He raised his eyebrows as he recognized Kikumaru Eiji, one of the team Seigaku that he'd met on the cruise several years prior.

Following him was another red-haired bouncing ball of energy he didn't recognize, and then a smiling brown-haired guy he remembered as Fuji Syuusuke (a genius, if he could recall correctly), and then—

The crowd stopped.

"UNYAA!!!"

* * *

"UNYAA!!!"

Ryoma winced at the sudden commotion up in front of their procession. He saw Keigo advance to see what was happening, his annoyed expression quickly morphing into fury and loathing as he found the source.

Keigo growled.

"**You."**

Ryoma broke forward to see what had got Keigo so worked up. It was rare for the young heir to show such loss of control in public. And having more than a few people present was definitely public. He moved to see and try to diffuse the situation before Keigo gets into a rage, only to be blocked by Keigo himself.

"Ryoma, get back in the car," Keigo said softly, in a deadly voice.

"What? Keigo, what's happening? Let me see—"

A glimpse of the familiar emerald-tinged black hair and golden eyes strikingly similar to his froze his flailing limbs in midair.

Oh, how fate must be laughing at the irony.

Ryoga grinned. "Yo, chibisuke!! Surprise, surprise!"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

…that's weird. From Friday night up 'till a few hours ago, I was under the influence of an extremely annoying, extremely hampering writer's block. And yet I kept on writing (which should show just how much I love you guys). But as you will probably see if you look closely, my writing was influenced by this writer's block. As such, the first half of this chapter is slow and… dull. Le sigh. Oh well. I regained fervor after a few. And besides, Tria-chan will spice it up for you so you won't notice the dullness. And of course, the errors will be corrected too.

Right.

**From Aventria: **Yay! We Finished. And a day before! Le gasp. Ore-sama-_tachi _no bigi ni yoi na. Be awed at our prowess. (If you couldn't already tell, both myself and Kia are watching / have just watched the Tango Pair episode).

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 03.12.07  
First Revision Version: 03.12.07_


	22. Step Twenty Two: Brothers

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Eto ne. This is amusing. I am writing again less than 24 hours from when I last updated One Step. Miracle, huh. I know.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Two: Brothers**  
_(Second Revision Version)_

* * *

"UNYAA!!!" 

Ryoma winced at the sudden commotion up in front of their procession. He saw Keigo advance to see what was happening, his annoyed expression quickly morphing into fury and loathing as he found the source.

Keigo growled.

"**You."**

Ryoma broke forward to see what had got Keigo so worked up. It was rare for the young heir to show such loss of control in public. And having more than a few people present was definitely public. He moved to see and try to diffuse the situation before Keigo gets into a rage, only to be blocked by Keigo himself.

"Ryoma, get back in the car," Keigo said softly, in a deadly voice.

"What? Keigo, what's happening? Let me see—"

A glimpse of the familiar emerald-tinged black hair and golden eyes strikingly similar to his froze his flailing limbs in midair.

Oh, how fate must be laughing at the irony.

Ryoga grinned. "Yo, chibisuke!! Surprise, surprise!"

And there was silence.

"Nanda, chibisuke?" Ryoga chuckled heartily, fingering one of the Lindt crème balls sitting innocently on a silver dainty candy tray on the table in front of him. He put his feet down and leaned on his knees eagerly, grinning like a cat. "Is this how you greet your aniki for the first time after… how many years? Six? Seven?"

Ryoma remained still, staring in shock at Ryoga. Keigo, however, instantaneously answered the older fellow tennis player and a rising professional himself.

"_Nine_, Ryoga," growled Keigo. "_Nine. Fucking. Years._"

"Ooo," Ryoga whistled, leering at Keigo with an appraising gaze. "My, my, haven't we grown, naa, _Kei-chan_. You're taller than Ryoma-chan now. Too bad I didn't see the both of you grow."

"Oooh, yes, because you were too fucking busy beating up defenseless children with those gangsters and feeling all stupidly _grown up_, weren't you?!" roared Keigo.

A dark expression flitted past Ryoga's face, but before he had the time to say anything, Keigo continued.

"How _dare_ you fucking come here and show your abhorrent face after everything you've done, you traitorous bastard?!" continued the enraged young master of the mansion. Behind him, all the other players were as still as frozen meat. No one dared move a single hair for fear of the rarely induced rage of the young Atobe turning on them. It was a _very_ rare sight for them to behold, but they had a feeling that if they stayed, they would see much, _much_ more.

Keigo suddenly stilled and recomposed himself, suppressing his rage inside and sculpting his face into a perfectly rigid expression of finality mixed with loathing. (And again, Momoshiro wondered how they managed that handsome to-die-for look every time even during extremely emotional times.)

"I'm very sorry, but I don't accept stow-away, worthless, abusive, manipulative bastards—_especially_ those despicable enough to turn on their own _brother_—to sully the soil I walk on, nor pollute the air I breathe," Keigo tightly said in a silent voice echoing with rage. "So if you don't mind, I'll have the guards remove you. I'm particularly tired tonight and I would like to reclaim my couch from under your worthless tramp of an ass."

Ryoga's eyes darkened and he lunged forward from the sofa in a clean, impressive leap, scaling the distance between him and Keigo easily. He lifted his fist and was about to hit Keigo when an arm blocked him.

"Ryoma!" Fuji yelped as Ryoma's arm blocked the direct hit from Ryoga.

Surprisingly enough, Ryoga immediately retracted his fist and backed down, looking extremely bashful and apologetic. "R-Ryo-Ryoma, that's dangero—"

"And you fucking say '_that's dangerous_', huh," drawled Ryoma with dripping contempt. "I don't give a damn. Keigo is precious to me and I will defend him like he defends me." However, he winced in the middle of his tirade and lifted his arm to his eyes for inspection. Fuji immediately sprang into action and seized the first aid kit that always came with Oishi whenever they went out. He then strode over to Ryoma and lifted the bad arm.

"Ryoma, that was rash," Tezuka remarked uncertainly, not wanting to enrage neither Keigo nor Ryoma any further.

Fuji started spreading a cooling salve on Ryoma's bruising forearm, while Keigo snarled aggressively at Ryoga. But before the Hyotei captain could make a move, everyone was moving. Oshitari and Jiroh (who was, for once, miraculously wide awake) immediately latched themselves to Keigo, who struggled under his two other players. When Oshitari's slight form and Jiroh's slack, sleepy countenance failed to hold the sudden burst of rage-induced strength their captain had displayed, Momoshiro, Kaidoh, and Kawamura stepped in and planted their feet, holding a vainly struggling Keigo in place.

Just then, Nanjiroh strode into the room, a frown set on his face. "What. Is. Happening. Here?!"

"See for yourself, Nan-ji-chan," Kevin silently, very calmly stated. It was uncharacteristic of the blonde to be so damned calm in the face of trouble, but Nanjiroh knew that when the blonde was calm, there was no telling just how much rage will explode afterwards. It was kind of scary. Fuji-ish scary.

Nanjiroh ignored his apprehensiveness towards Kevin and swerved on his heel, turning towards whatever spectacle Keigo was raging at.

And he did a double take.

"…oya," Ryoga blandly greeted his father using the old petname, apparently not knowing how he would approach someone whom he hadn't seen for years and hadn't dreamt of seeing ever again, particularly someone who was possibly holding a grudge against him. No, grudges were _not _lucky.

Nanjiroh took a deep, steadying breath. "…well, what do we have here. Niki-kun," Nanjiroh muttered, chuckling dryly as he used the old petname he had for Ryoga as well. It had started when Ryoma persistently started clinging and calling Ryoga 'nikiniki' as a variant of 'aniki'.

Ryoga's lips quirked slightly.

"Look, I don't know what's going on here," Momoshiro gasped as he tried to restrain the _still_ struggling Atobe. He was inwardly impressed with the sheer strength packed in the lean, firm figure Atobe had. "But can someone please calm Atobe-san do—"

"What the hell are you doing here, you fucking bastard?!" exploded Ryoma, wrenching his wrist free of Fuji's grasp as soon as the tensai was finished. He hadn't struggled against the elder player for fear of offense and further jeopardy for their relationship, but now that it was finished, there was nothing stopping him.

"Ryo—"

"How the fuck can you show your face after—after what you did?!" Ryoma roared. "You're a fucking hypocrite, Ryoga! A fucking _liar_! All those _things_ you told me—all those promises—all of them—they were _lies_!! All lies!! You made me fucking _believe_ you, and then when you were convinced I was believing enough, you shattered _everything. Everything._ And I _hate _you—I _loathe_ you for it!!"

And all was silent.

Ryoma stalked towards Ryoga with a murderous look plastered on his face, training his burning cold eyes on the person they said was his fucking _older brother_.

"You. Left me," Ryoma growled low. "You… left me… under the fucking—freezing—rain that day—and now… and now, NOW! What the hell do you think you're doing here?!"

"Ryoma, look, I—"

"And now you try to explain!" Ryoma exasperatedly exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration and anger. "_Explaining_ won't get us anywhere now, _Ryoga_! I no longer see you as my brother—and I doubt I ever will again. You had your chance that time, and you fucking _ruined_ it in the most wonderfully fucked up way you could think of! _Kevin_ is more of a brother than you've ever had been. _Keigo_ has been—_is_ always moving goddamned mountains whenever I needed him. _They were there_, by my side, doing their _fucking_ damnedest and trying to be patient all the while whenever I needed them. And _you_, you hurt me, then you left me. You hurt me. And left me."

"…"

"And now you show up here," Ryoma muttered murderously, his voice steadily rose in volume. "What the hell do you want? What the fuck do you want?! I hate you, you know that. I hate you. You left me under the fucking rain, Ryoga. Under the fucking freezing rain. Now, you show up here, expecting to be welcomed. Now you come back fucking _waltzing_ into our life, greeting us like we were _old friends_, when you already _lost the fucking right to do that a long, long time ago_!"

"Look, Ryoma, it's all in the past, and well, I have reasons, and… and… can't we just forget?!" exclaimed Ryoga. "Can't we just _put that in the past_?!"

"Perfect, we're in agreement," Ryoma announced immediately, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. "I'm putting it in the past—and 'it' includes _you_."

And with that, Ryoma smoothly strode out of the room, rebel tears leaking through the corners of his eyes. He disappeared into the shadows of the fading sunset, leaving a stunned audience behind.

There was silence for a full minute after Ryoma strode out, before someone cleared a throat and another coughed.

"…someone care to explain…?" muttered Eiji, suddenly strangely subdued. It was not everyday, after all, when you see _the_ Echizen Ryoma walking out in tears after cursing the hell out of somebody who was his own brother. However cocky and however arrogant the teen was, he was respectful and commonly subdued even under stress and/or emotional torrents. This was one hell of an unusual event.

"Now you've done it," snarled Keigo. "Now you've _fucking_ done it. I hope you're happy, you despicable wretch. Because now, _now_ you've manage to break him. _Twice_. Congratulate yourself. I hope you're proud." He then zero-ed in on Nanjiroh. "And _you._ If I find out that you've had something to do with this and if he falls into another depression, Rinko-ba-san's wrath won't be the only thing you'll receive."

Keigo gave Ryoga a withering contemptuous glance, before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room.

"No one is allowed in the Bay Wing unless under special permission," he began barking orders. "No one is to approach Ryoma until due notice. Fuji, Tezuka, Kevin—and Toushi as well, I gather—Nan-ji-chan, you are all allowed into ore-sama's chambers. Katsura, serve dinner for six in ore-sama's chambers. Ore-sama does not fucking care whatever you fucking do with the bastard standing over there as long as he fucking does not approach Ryoma at _all costs._ AM I CLEAR?!"

"H-Hai, Atobe-sama!" chanted the servants gathered around the room.

Keigo simply nodded tightly, before disappearing after Ryoma.

Kevin sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Good job, Ryoga," he said, stretching his shoulders slightly to alleviate the gathering ache. "Perfect. You just managed to ruin the steady good mood we've established for today. And thanks to you, we're fucking back to square one with him again."

And the blonde just shook his head, half in ruefulness and half in hopeless disbelief, before tugging on Toushi. "Come on, Tou," he muttered, moving after Keigo and Ryoma. Toushi cast a bewildered glance to Ryoga, before moving after Kevin who was holding his hand and already tugging his arm off.

Tezuka was making a move to follow after them, but stalled as Fuji remained rooted to his spot. The sharp blue glare was focused on Ryoga, who was mute and staring still after the door.

"Don't think I'll let this go," Fuji said in a deathly whisper only loud enough to reach their ears. Barely. "Don't think I'll let _you_ go. I don't go without retribution, brother or no brother. Just don't blame me when your punishment starts to _hurt_."

Fuji swept out like a ghost, leaving the room slightly colder than before. Tezuka followed after him with a sigh, kneading his forehead in pain.

And there was silence once again.

"…so," Nanjiroh announced, sighing. "I have some things to say too, but I think that's enough for the sermon today, hey? Seishounen-tachi, training for today is cancelled. Go rest and relax and go down for dinner later. I won't be joining you—Ryoma needs me. I'm also not sure if I should be the one to tell you the story, as I'm sure you all are just _dying_ to know. If it was just me, I'd tell right now, but it's not. It's not my story to tell. It's up to you, though, if you manage to convince Niki-kun to tell."

"I'm sure you can take care of yourselves from here," Nanjiroh nodded, straightening from his leaning position against the wall. "Katsura-san, if you could possibly prepare a room for Ryoga…?"

"Of course, Echizen-san," nodded Katsura. "In fact, it's already prepared."

"Good, good," nodded Nanjiroh. "Ryoga, please follow Katsura-san and familiarize yourself with your new neighbors. We'll talk later; both about your reason for being here, and for what happened back then. If you want to play, the tennis courts are outside. I'm sure you can find more than suitable players around, if you know what I mean."

"H-Hai…"

Nanjiroh turned and was about to stalk out after the six other players when Ryoga called out.

"…oya?" he said. Nanjiroh stopped and turned. "…look after him for me?"

Nanjiroh was silent for a while.

"'Course," grinned Nanjiroh.

* * *

Ryoma threw Atobe's chamber doors open with a huge bang, before immediately launching himself airborne towards the legendary bed that can house five persons in one go. He landed smack in the middle, grabbing his favorite pillow on instinct and burying his face against it. Tears were leaking out the corner of his eyes, even if he struggled to maintain countenance. He didn't want to cry about that anymore. He'd done enough crying nine years ago—he wasn't going to cry again. 

But he just couldn't stop his tears from leaking out of his already red-rimmed eyes.

Soon, he was a sobbing heap on the bed, clutching his pillow—which was incidentally the plush that looked like Karupin—and trying to clear his head of the images that threatened to resurface from his long forgotten and buried past in Florida. He didn't want to _remember!_

The door creaked open, and as he had expected, Keigo walked in. "Ryoma," called Keigo, as the young master released the yowling_ real_ Karupin from his empty, clean new travel crate. Somehow, the cat got trapped inside while playing, for God knows how long. Keigo made a mental note to remind the maids to hide potentially dangerous items from the cat's reach.

The real Karupin immediately slunk out of the travel crate, ruffling his fur and heading for his sobbing master. Ryoma immediately rolled over and pulled Karupin onto his chest, petting the beloved cat. He sniffed. "Keigo… what is he doing here?" he muttered weakly. "I don't understand. What the hell does he think—why is he—how can he—"

"Hush now, hush," Keigo crooned, pulling Ryoma's head into his lap as he climbed over the bed beside his young emotional charge. He sighed. _One trouble after another…_

Just then, the chamber's doors once again swung open to allow Kevin and his faithful companion Toushi in. Keigo inwardly snorted at this combination: it was like having two Kevins, each harboring polar opposite personalities yet at the same time were very much the like each other.

Kevin stopped in the middle of the room, took a deep breath, and screamed.

Toushi winced as Kevin's hoarse scream slash yell of rage and frustration ripped through the silence of the manor. He was sure it had echoed clearly down to the lower halls. (Or maybe not, since he had not idea if Keigo's chambers were soundproofed. After all, who knew what horrors occurred inside the rooms…)

"He's infuriating!!" screamed Kevin, clutching at his hair in frustration. "What the hell does he think he's doing here?! He should be back in New York, trying to make money and screwing whores off the streets!"

"Now, Kevin, don't be rude," Keigo drawled, all the while petting Ryoma's head. "Such crude words are not meant for Ore-sama's ears."

"It's not like you're innocent, Keigo, so come off it," Kevin snorted, brushing him off dismissively before promptly returning to destroying his hair. Toushi sighed and tapped him on the shoulder. "What?!"

"Your wound. It's reopening," Toushi pointed out blandly.

"Huh?" Kevin unintelligibly answered, before the brain inside the blonde head finally caught up and shoved the rage aside to replace with rationality. And then, after looking down at his already bloody shoulder, he yelped. "OUCH! Damn!"

Toushi face faulted. _So he wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't pointed it out? Then I probably shouldn't have…_, he thought, eyeing Kevin rushing towards the chamber's wash rooms. He followed after the blonde, ignoring Keigo's remark about retribution if 'ore-sama's bathing chambers are sullied with unworthy blood'. He inwardly hoped Kevin was taught by the doctors on how to bandage and care for his entry wound.

And once again, the chamber's doors swung open. This time, as Keigo had expected, it was Fuji and Tezuka.

"…Ryoma?" Fuji tentatively called out after nodding shortly to Keigo. It was the least bit of respect he could pay the young master. After all, he _was_ in Keigo's chambers, a place normally exclusive to those people in the young master's good graces (which meant he was excluded for once).

"…Fu-Fuji-senpai… buchou…" muttered Ryoma, moving away slightly from Keigo. Then Ryoma gave Keigo a disbelieving glance. "You… you actually let them in?"

"Right now, I don't really give a damn about your spat," Keigo sighed, still petting Ryoma's head. "I know you need your comfort, and you're going to get it no matter what. So if you want them to be here, then Ore-sama can do nothing but to gracefully acquiesce to the brat prince's needs."

Ryoma gave Keigo a half-apologetic, half-grateful smile in which Keigo, in turn, returned with his own reassuring one.

Just then, Toushi poked his head out from inside the washroom. "Oi, Keigo," he called across the room, ignoring Keigo's frown of dissatisfaction at his apparent immunity from the vain master's threats. The boy was just like Kevin and Ryoma in respects. The three of them rarely paid respect. "Kindly call your family doctor. Kevin's bleeding all over the place."

Keigo groaned, before picking the phone up from beside him and dialing his majordomo, all the while watching Fuji and Tezuka settle down on the couches near Ryoma's side of the bed.

Ryoma frowned down on the bed, his upset countenance dissipating temporarily. "Like _hell_ it will happen again!!" Ryoma yelled, startling the tensai who was right in front of him. "If _this_ is his way of _getting_ to me, then it won't _work._ I _won't_ let it work! I won't let him get to me!"

"Now _that's_ the spirit, Ryoma!" floated Kevin's voice from the washroom, which was accompanied with a grunt and a noticeable yelp. Toushi was apparently helping him curb the bleeding of his reopened wound. "Show him who's boss!"

"Well, it's nice to see that you won't sulk with this problem like you did with your most recent ones," Keigo remarked from behind him. Ryoma frowned as he pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders, wrapping it snug around himself.

"Damare, saru-chama," Ryoma's muffled grumbles did not conceal the disgruntled pout the teen wore behind his blanket.

Beside him, Tezuka stirred. "Speaking of previous problems," he started, sensing Ryoma stiffen. "I don't think we'll be able to talk out in the beach tonight, Ryoma."

"Sou da na…" Fuji muttered.

"Alright," Keigo sighed, rising from the bed. "Ore-sama will be helping Kevin deal with his wound. Ore-sama does not want him to hemorrhage all over ore-sama's bathing chambers any more than he has. Be awed by ore-sama's charity."

"We're awed by Keigo-chama's generous...ego…" Ryoma drawled, reminiscent to Keigo's own, but being thankful nonetheless. He knew that it wasn't the real reason for Keigo's leave. The diva refused to admit it out loud, but he was doing it to give the Seigaku threesome privacy and space for their much needed talk. Fuji, however, grimaced. 'Atobe' and 'charity' did not go well inside one sentence. In fact, the two words weren't _supposed_ to be in one sentence. The concept was just not graspable. It just wasn't so.

After Keigo's back disappeared inside the bathing chambers—with much yelling on his part and much whining on Kevin's part—silence sat down between the three remaining players sitting on the bed. Ryoma snuggled deeper into his blankie, while Fuji sighed. Tezuka remained motionless.

"Ryoma-chan…" Fuji started.

Ryoma closed his eyes.

* * *

Ryoga sighed, sinking against the bed and heaving a deep, calming breath. 

He'd been given a solo suite in the North Wing, since the residential East Wing was completely full and occupied by the other tennis players. He could hear the telltale sounds of balls hitting concrete and rackets swishing in the air from outside. It seemed his room was pretty near the courts.

He could also hear lots of talking, loud yelling, and laughter from bellow. Catching snippets of the conversations with his sharply tuned ears, he knew for a fact that they were all wondering about the incident earlier. He guessed it was not often for Ryoma to lose control like that, and for the young master Atobe to be infuriated far enough to resort to physical violence.

_Well, I should've expected it,_ Ryoga thought to himself. _What else was I expecting, a warm welcome? After all, I _did_ leave them nine years ago… _

He sighed.

_This is getting more complicated than what I initially thought. It seems the brat has really changed. _

As his thoughts wandered back to Ryoma's face that rainy day he left, he winced.

_Sorry, Ryoma… now I know I was wrong._

* * *

"…are you ready to tell us what went wrong?" 

Ryoma sat stock still, not knowing what his answer should be. After a moment's contemplation and a lot of hesitation, he minutely nodded yes.

Fuji heaved a sigh of relief, while one of the two added wrinkles on Tezuka's forehead disappeared. "Then, Ryoma-chan, can you tell us now, so we can… apologize for whatever we did wrong, and make sure it doesn't happen again?" Fuji spoke gently, as if talking to a fragile child.

Ryoma bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. "You hid your relationship."

Fuji and Tezuka were silenced.

Ryoma misinterpreted the silence as incredulous disbelief, so he quickly added, "I-I know it's a stupid thing to have a grudge against, and I know I've been extremely childish, b-but I was just—… I just… I didn't… want to be in a relationship where my partners hid things from me, no matter what the reason. Even if my own well-being is the reason. I… I want an honest relationship. I've had enough of people lying to me—I've had enough of people like _him_!"

Fuji and Tezuka exchanged a look as Ryoma screwed his eyes shut.

"I just don't want people hiding things from me again, especially those important things like this!" Ryoma exclaimed. "I was hurt, you know, because that was what he exactly did nine years ago. He lied to me. He hid things from me. And I trusted him and end up being hurt. I don't want to be hurt again. I didn't want to be hurt again, so I drew away from you. I… lost trust."

"Ryoma…"

"I'm sorry I didn't explain sooner!" Ryoma continued, ignoring Tezuka. "Keigo said I was traumatized from last time, and that was why I drew away from you. I think he's right, after all. I _was_ too traumatized with last time's hurt. It may be a really insignificant matter, and I know that, but it's important to me!"

"Ryoma, don't," Fuji gently scolded, wanting but hesitating to scoop the teen into his arms. "Don't. You don't need to apologize or justify you actions—_we_ do."

"We understand that you lost trust, and we understand that you were hurt for whatever reason last time," Tezuka gently said. "We apologize for not telling you sooner, Ryoma. We didn't plan on hiding it for too long, but we simply didn't want to shock you. We just wanted to take it slowly."

"From now on, we promise we'll be honest with you about everything," swore Fuji. "From now on, we'll talk about things sincerely and deal with things together."

"That is…" Tezuka continued. "…if you're willing to give us another chance."

Ryoma sniffled and raised his eyes to Fuji's smiling face, and to Tezuka's warm and welcoming eyes. He then clutched at his blanket tighter.

_Another chance..._

* * *

Nanjiroh sighed. 

He had initially intended going to Keigo's chambers, but as soon as he arrived at the chamber's front doors, he had heard his son and his son's boyfriends talking. Naturally, not wanting to interfere in the moment, he walked off back towards his own room instead. He knew that Ryoma needed to fix his relationship with the two older teens and to get more support. He had a feeling things weren't going to be easy from here on, since Ryoga didn't show any inclination whatsoever towards leaving the manor anytime soon.

As his thoughts wandered towards his older son, he sighed.

Things he had buried in the past seemed to rise back up and haunt him years later every single time. He knew that as a father, he was glad Ryoga fared well on his own and managed to take care of himself just fine. He knew that he himself was happy to see his older son again, and that he still viewed Ryoga in high respects even after what happened years ago. Ryoga was but a child then. He understood that fact.

After all, Ryoga was still his older son. Even if Ryoma was the one who would inherit everything he had worked for, the fact didn't change; Ryoga was _still_ his older son.

He wanted explanations regarding Ryoga's sudden reappearance in their lives. After everything that had transpired, things were blurred and uncertain. He didn't know what to think any longer. He didn't want to side on either of his sons; he didn't want a rift in his family.

God, he was confused.

And just then, his cellphone rang.

He jumped out of his skin and shook his head as the sharp ringing tone sliced through the silence inside his room. He pulled out the black phone and flipped it open, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Nanjiroh speaking, make it quick," he gruffly spoke into the phone's receiver.

"Nanjiroh, dear," came a gentle voice he would recognize anytime.

"Ah… Rinko, gomen," he sighed, kneading his forehead and falling back against the windowsill's chair's back support. He stared out at the sea. Sounds of tennis floated through his open window, but he ignored it. "Just a bit stressed."

"I understand," Rinko came from the other side, sighing. "We're currently in the hospital, packing up Kevin's stuff. We were informed that he was not going to be confined inside the hospital any longer. Apparently, Kei-chan instructed his family's doctor to take care of Kevin inside the manor instead."

"I see," nodded Nanjiroh. "That would make sense. It would make a better environment for Kevin's healing too."

"…Nanjiroh, did something happen?" Rinko worriedly asked after a second of silence.

Despite the current stress he was under, Nanjiroh chuckled bemusedly. "You know me like no other, Rinko-chan."

"Of course, Nanjiroh, that goes without saying. Now, what happened?"

"…oh well, might as well tell you," Nanjiroh muttered. "Ryoga arrived about an hour or so ago, and he's here inside the manor right now."

"…"

"Rinko, you there?"

There was a deep sigh from the other side. "How's Ryoma coping?"

"He's currently inside Keigo's chambers—"

"As expected."

"—and he took it quite well. He gave Ryoga a piece of his mind before walking out on the poor kid. He must be being spoiled like mad right now by his boyfriends too," Nanjiroh snorted.

"…good. Nanjiroh…"

"I know," Nanjiroh sighed. "I'll take care of him. I'll watch out and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Please do," Rinko said from the other side. There was a palpable silence in between the two of them as they paused for a while, before Rinko sighed. "I guess I'll just ask Kei-chan's driver to deliver the stuff left behind here tomorrow then."

"U-huh, okay."

"Take care, love."

"I will. You too. Bye."

Nanjiroh flipped the phone close as the line went dead.

* * *

Oshitari Yuushi was a wise man. He made his choices carefully, went with well-thought plans, and never acted rashly. He was the most level-headed person in their team, and he was pretty sure that his other teammates knew this well. It was, after all, the source of the respect people paid him. 

However, right now, it seemed his teammates temporarily forgot about him and his wisdom.

His eyebrow twitched as he listened to Gakuto eagerly telling Eiji about Keigo's escapades with Ryoma when he was younger. They were currently lounging out on one of the newly erected small beach huts, lazing around with some soda and snacks. The Seigaku team had been, as expected, extremely curious regarding the earlier events. And as such, knowing that only the select few of Hyotei's team were the ones who knew something about Keigo and Ryoma's connection and their past, the whole Seigaku team headhunted Hyotei.

And that was how they landed in this very compromising situation at hand.

Gakuto was eagerly rattling off stories like there was no tomorrow, and Jiroh occasionally piped in and added tidbits of information from Keigo himself. Hiyoshi, thankfully, was sitting quietly on one corner, ignoring the rest and staring out to the open churning sea. Shishido and Choutarou were both listening raptly with Eiji, while Momoshiro was trying to multitask by inhaling the snacks and listening to Gakuto's ranting. Inui was rapidly jotting down data inside his faithful green notebook, once in a while nodding while muttering things like 'ii data' and 'as expected'. Oishi was torn between worry and interest, while Kawamura and Kaidoh both were listening with detached interest.

He knew that this spelled trouble for them once Keigo figured out who spilled the stories, but he just couldn't bring himself to interfere.

How could he, when he was bound and gagged?

Earlier, Gakuto and Eiji both ambushed him when he tried to stop the divulgement of the stories, tying him against one of the hut's poles and gagging his mouth. Shishido and Choutarou, while slightly reluctant to go behind Keigo's back, were eager to hear some of the stories they didn't know about. After all, apart from himself, Gakuto was the one who knew the most stories and intrigues regarding any of the team members' lives. As such, the two unofficial lovebirds conspired behind his back and tied and gagged him with Gakuto and Eiji as well.

He mentally groaned.

He was just thankful that the other teams weren't as curious as Seigaku to go as far as this.

"Demo ne, don't you guys know anything about what happened earlier?" asked Momoshiro after downing half of his juice. "I mean, all these stories explains why Atobe-san is so close to our little bratty Ryoma, but what about that incident with Echizen-san?"

"Clarify which Echizen, Momoshiro," Gakuto quipped. "We have three Echizen's in the house."

"Fine, Ryoga-san," Momoshiro sighed.

Shishido and Choutarou looked at each other, before Choutarou piped up. "I'm not entirely sure about the whole story, but I heard that Ryoga-san was a very delicate topic with Ryoma-kun when they were little. I guess it's still the same now. Atobe-san doesn't really mention anything about Ryoga-san when we talk. I think even Atobe-san is trying to forget about Ryoga-san."

"When they were in the US, Ryoga-san did something to Echizen-kun," Shishido continued for his doubles partner. "I think Echizen-kun—Ryoma, I mean—ended up in the hospital after that incident. I think that's why Atobe-san is so mad at Ryoga-san."

"So nobody really knows for sure?" asked Oishi.

Eiji and Momoshiro groaned in unison. "Oh come oooon…"

"Mmmph grrmmph!" Oshitari struggled against his gag, trying to say something.

"Ne, I think Oshitari-san's trying to say something," Kawamura pointed out.

"As long as he doesn't try to stop us-nya," shrugged Eiji.

"Eiji!"

Momoshiro reached over and undid the gag, releasing Oshitari. The older player spat the gag off and stretched his jaw muscles, wincing at the aching he felt. "You didn't need to gag me that tight!"

"Yes we did," Eiji, Gakuto, and Momo immediately answered.

Oshitari simply glared.

"Well? You were saying something?" prodded Shishido.

"I said," Oshitari began. "The night Ryoga-san left was the same night Ryoma-kun was admitted into a hospital in Florida for severe cold and pulmonary difficulties. It had something to do with being out in the rain for far too long. The only thing I've been able to wheedle out of Keigo is that after that night, Ryoma-kun sank into depression."

"Then we can safely deduce that the two events has a connection," Inui declared. "We can also deduct that this event has traumatized Ryoma and is the main reason why he is so angry at Ryoga-san."

"Sou, sou," nodded Eiji.

"So… what really happened, then?"

"…"

* * *

Ryoma bit his lip in uncertainty. He had told them the real reason why there had been a rift in their relationship. They had accepted his reason. 

And now the big question.

_Do I give them another chance?_

Did he want to?

Yes, he did. More than anything else, he did. He wanted to be back within Fuji's arms. He wanted to be able to lean on his buchou once again. He wanted _so much _to bridge the overpowering rift between the three of them. He wanted things to go back as they should be. He wanted everything to be just like before, when there was no conflict, when there was nothing standing between the three of them.

However, it was not as easy as that.

He was aware that Fuji and Tezuka were both staring at him, sitting stock still and waiting for what was to be his decision. His decision would cite how things would go from this point on. He had to be careful with what he chose. After all, even at the risk of sounding cliché, he knew that matters of the heart were matters not to be messed with. (Clichés became clichéd for the truth they hold, right?)

He honestly didn't want to be hurt again. He didn't want to undergo the same heartache, especially now that Ryoga was here. He knew that with that—that _traitor_—here, he was not going to have a break. He didn't want more complications to arise; his spat with Tezuka and Fuji on its own was already a troublesome matter. It already hindered his play, as evident with the earlier competition—he winced inwardly at the memory of having been so close to defeat by someone whom he could have defeated so easily—and he didn't want anything else to hinder his play any longer.

Of course, he could just accept them again, but he didn't want to get hurt again.

He screwed his eyes shut.

Echoes of the conversation he had with his father came back to him: there was no way he could not be hurt. But he was human. He did not want to be hurt. He wasn't afraid of pain, but he didn't _want _pain. And sure, accepting them would bring happiness back, but it was bound to bring pain as well.

At least, until he was sure that he could trust them and completely lay himself before them without any doubts or worries.

When that time comes, he would rejoice.

But he promised himself that he would take one step at a time.

_One step at a time, I said to myself. I can't afford to rush, especially now that Ryoga's here as a new thorn in my already fucked up life. I can just say…_

"…I'll think about it," Ryoma muttered. He inwardly prayed to whatever gods that were watching them now that his decision wasn't wrong, and that this wouldn't bite him in the ass afterwards.

Fuji heaved a relieved sigh and smiled. Tezuka released the deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. It wasn't what they really wanted and hoped for a reply, but it was better than a 'no'. It was what they've been given, and they would bear with it.

"If that's your decision, then that it is," Tezuka nodded.

"I-I…" Ryoma started again. "I'm not sure yet if I can trust you again. You've hurt me. But I will try and start readjusting again. I can't assure you anything, but I'll really think about it. I'll try and see if I can trust you again."

"And we'll do our best to show you that we are trustworthy," Fuji smiled, reaching out a hand hesitantly to pet Ryoma, before erasing his hesitation and placing the soft, gentle hand on top of the black mop of hair. "Now, why don't you change and take a hot bath first… then rest? You can sleep. We'll wake you for dinner… if you want."

Ryoma gazed at Fuji. The tensai was making everything his decision. It was his decision to rest, his decision to sleep, his decision to eat dinner. He was being shown that he was trusted… so that in turn…

There was a knock on the door, and a white head poked from inside the washroom. "I'm sorry to disturb you guys, but can you please open the door and let the doctor in? Kevin needs medical attention. Thanks," Toushi grinned, before returning back to whatever he was doing.

Tezuka rose from his seat, while Fuji resumed petting Ryoma.

…_so that in turn I can trust them again._

* * *

Dinner was an interesting event once again that evening. 

Yukimura ladled a hefty serving of the tonkatsu sauce over his beloved 'Aka-chan's' bowl of rice. He loved babying the baby of their team, and even though Renji often pointed out that his babying was spoiling Kirihara, he didn't really care. Kirihara was already spoiled anyways.

On the other side of his baby, Sanada sighed.

"Ne, they really aren't coming down for dinner tonight, ne," muttered Kirihara. He glanced at the six empty seats before him, before sneaking a covert glance towards Ryoga, who was sitting beside Nanjiroh off to the far end of the table.

"No, I don't think they wi—"

"Chef Andrew!" called a familiar voice they all knew too well. The whole table froze.

Just then, Ryoma waltzed down the stairs, followed by a cheerful Fuji, a composed Tezuka, a haughty Keigo, a wincing Kevin, and an exasperated Toushi.

"Hai, Echizen-sama?"

"Keigo, Kevin, and I will have bouillabaisse tonight. With Keigo's prawns as usual, please. He'll have my abalone instead this time," Ryoma ordered politely, keeping his tone clipped and composed.

"Arigatou na, brat prince," Keigo wryly drawled back, knowing that it was Ryoma's way of thanking him for his earlier intervention with Tezuka and Fuji.

"No, make it five, please," Fuji overrode the young master.

"Oh well," chuckled Toushi. "Might as well make it six instead."

As the six of them settled into their respective chairs—with Ryoma now nestled safely in between Tezuka and Fuji again—conversation resumed.

Beside their coach, Ryoga mouthed, "Prawn bouillabaisse?"

Nanjiroh snorted. "The prawn-and-soup tradition. Don't tell me you've forgotten."

"How can I?" Ryoga chortled. "Chibisuke stole prawn from me everyday."

Instead of replying to his older son, Nanjiroh turned to Ryoma. "I thought you were dining up in Keigo's chambers tonight."

"Why bother?" shrugged Ryoma. "Just because there's an unwarranted _guest_ sullying saru-sama's property…" he said, his words laced with something startlingly close to contempt. "…doesn't mean we should change our traditions, right?"

Soon enough, the bouillabaisse were laid out before the six of them. Inwardly, Ryoga was impressed with the fast service. He then sweated as Ryoma stole Fuji and Tezuka's extra prawns with relish. _Some things never change_.

"You're eating prawn," Ryoga observed blandly.

"Glad you noticed," Ryoma replied crisply, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Which would mean either you're depressed or extremely pissed, wouldn't it?" Ryoga pointed out.

Ryoma paused his eating for a moment, before turning a sharp gaze on his half-brother.

"Three guesses on which it is."

* * *

"_Aniki!"_

_Pounding rain._

"_Ani… ani—"_

_Cold._

"_H-Hurts…"_

_Freezing rain._

"_An-ni… p-p-please… d-d-don't…"_

_Pain._

"_Please… d-don't… l-leave…"_

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Second Revision Version)_

* * *

Cliffie! Muahahahaha!! 

Oh well. I finished this one early. Startlingly early. It's only Saturday, and I'm already finished.

Hahahaha! Ore-sama no bigi ni yoi na!

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 03.17.07  
First Revision Version: 03.18.07   
Second Revision Version: 03.20.07 _


	23. Step Twenty Three: Freezing Rain

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Here we go. A whole flashback chapter. Wish me luck.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Three: Freezing Rain**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

"_Ryoma-chan!" called Rinko's voice. "Ryoma-chan, wake up!"_

_A feminine hand gently shook the small five-year-old boy's shoulder, pulling him out of dreamland. Little Ryoma groaned in complaint and burrowed his head further into his favorite pillow, clutching his cat plush—a spotted Himalayan cat. He pulled the blanket over his head._

"_Come on, Ryoma-chan, it's already late," Rinko coaxed. "Breakfast is waiting. I made you your favorite omelet—with bacon! Come on, Ryoma-chan… afterwards, you can play tennis with your oyaji, ne?"_

_Another groan._

_Rinko sighed, placing a hand against her forehead. Once again, she questioned herself if she had some kind of deficiency. Her child seemed to have inherited _everything_ from the father and _nothing_ from the mother! She glanced around the small boy's room, noting the blinding neatness. _

Well, then again, he may have inherited his neatness from me. Nanjiroh's _nowhere_ near neat,_ she thought triumphantly. At least she managed to give her child _one_ thing._

"_Not up yet, is he?" came a deep chuckle from the door. Rinko turned to meet Nanjiroh's gaze, and she smiled._

"_Okaeri, anata(1)," Rinko greeted, rising from her seated position on the small bed and walking over to give her husband a kiss. "Did you…?"_

"_Yeah, he's waiting out in the front porch," nodded Nanjiroh. The ex-pro took an orange out of his pocket, throwing it up and down and playing with it like a ball. He walked towards the small bed and sat on the same position Rinko was sitting on. The amused mother remained leaning against the doorway, watching the father deal with the son's inherited laziness when getting up from bed. "Oi, seishounen! Wakey, wakey!" boomed Nanjiroh right next to the child's ear._

_Said child shot up straight from bed with a loud startled squeak, groggy eyes wide open and sleep-mussed hair sticking up on end._

_Nanjiroh nodded approvingly, patting his son's head. "That's my boy. You have to learn to be attentive in the morning, Ryoma! After all, when you're in the pro circuit, you won't have people to wake you up!"_

_Internally, Rinko pitied Ryoma's future alarm clocks. They were sure to meet untimely deaths. The mother walked out of the room, leaving the father to deal with the groggy Ryoma rubbing on his eyes. She'd be better off just taking care of breakfast instead of interfering vainly with those two. After all, if she took any longer, she was going to be late for the office._

_Meanwhile, Nanjiroh hustled Ryoma out of bed, pulling on the young child. "Come on, get up, get up!"_

"_Oyajiiiii…" whined Ryoma, closing his eyes again and wrapping his small, stubby arms around Nanjiroh's wide expanse of chest. The small hands didn't even reach each other around. "…'m still sleepy…"_

_Nanjiroh chuckled, overcome with the inherent—he liked to think so—cuteness of his son. He mussed the black mop of hair and placed a kiss on the small forehead._

"_Come on, up, baby boy, up," Nanjiroh coaxed, pulling on Ryoma's arms. Ryoma whined louder. Nanjiroh sighed. The ex-pro effectively held the boy tight against him and rose, taking the small boy up with him. He easily walked towards the bathroom after retrieving some clothes from Ryoma's closet and plunked Ryoma unceremoniously in the middle of the shower stall. "Take off your clothes and shower, Ryoma. I'll take care of your bed. Wake up, it's already late."_

_Ryoma pouted, but acquiesced. "Haaaai…" he replied in Japanese. Nanjiroh wanted the young boy to learn Japanese, and as such, whenever he was at home, he was forbidden to speak English. Only when he was out at school—kindergarten—was he allowed to speak English._

_Nanjiroh walked out of the bathroom and left the capable boy to his own devices. Since most of the time Rinko wasn't home because of work, and Nanjiroh wasn't a very patient man with chores, Ryoma was taught how to bathe himself and take care of his own room. Good habits, Rinko said._

_As soon as the boy finished bathing and clothing himself, he went down the stairs while adjusting his white cap on his small head. He wore his favorite play clothes again; red shirt and jean jumpers. His mom had bought him three pairs of these clothes after seeing his attachment. After all, Ryoma was a very silent, detached boy, and it was rare for him to get attached to anything so vehemently except tennis. That was one of the main problems Rinko and Nanjiroh were both struggling with._

_Rinko beamed up at the young boy from the dining table. "We're about to eat breakfast, Ryoma-chan."_

_Ryoma looked down at the breakfast table; omelet, bacon, milk, bread. Western-style breakfast. Just how he liked it._

_But wait._

_There were four plates._

"_Do we have a visitor, kaa-san?" Ryoma asked, clueless. _

_Rinko inwardly smiled, proud at Ryoma's innate observational skills. She was just thankful that not all the things the child inherited from Nanjiroh were the bad things. She also hoped that the kid wouldn't inherit Nanjiroh's inclination towards… _censored_… things._

"_Well, why don't you find out?" Rinko said. "Your father is outside with someone he wants you to meet."_

"_Huh?"_

_Rinko walked around the table after putting down the pitcher of natural orange juice—gathered from their orange yard—and ushered the child towards the front door. "Go now, Ryoma. Go."_

_Ryoma walked towards the front door, timidly pulling it open and poking his head out. "Oyaji?" he called out, peeking cautiously around as if some monster would come out any moment and bite him._

"_Ara, Ryoma!" grinned Nanjiroh. "There you are. What are you doing there? Come out, come out, nothing's going to bite you!" the ex-pro motioned, calling the boy out to the front yard._

_Ryoma cocked his head to the side wonderingly. His father seemed to be talking to someone out there, but he couldn't see who it was. He pushed the door open and walked out towards the front yard. As soon as he was there, however, he stopped. His dad was with another kid, who was wearing a green summer polo and shorts. _

_Ryoma looked up at his father. "Oyaji?"_

_Nanjiroh grinned, placing a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Ryoma, this is Ryoga. He'll be your new brother from now on. Be good friends with him, na?"_

'_Ryoga' grinned widely. He bounded forward and snatched Ryoma's cap from the younger boy, before pulling it over his own head backwards. He then reached two hands over and mussed Ryoma's hair totally. "Yo, chibisuke! Yoroshiku!" he said, before giving the mop of black hair one last muss. _

_Ryoma grunted in reply, his face taking on a deadpanned expression he copied from his father whenever the ex-pro was exasperated. _

_Nanjiroh just laughed._

* * *

_Ryoma quickly found out that his new brother was a very good tennis player. Child as though he was, he knew how to see potential even from a mile away. It was another one of those "inherited legacies", according to his father (but he was slightly disbelieving, for his mother had been laughing at his father back then). He watched his brother being taught by his father a special serve he wanted so much to learn—but Nanjiroh told him he was too young—as he sat on the steps of the front porch._

_He sipped silently from his orange juice, eyeing his brother's form. He would never admit it out loud, but he loved the times he sat with his father and watched tennis matches (whether through videos or live matches, it didn't matter). He often tagged along with his father—and thus he was well-known among his father's ex-colleagues—when the older Echizen went to watch the professional circuit competitions. He was no stranger to the Grand Slams, and he even often got autographs and posters and got to meet well-known players as well because of his father's inside connections. His life was a tennis lover's dream._

_And because of that, he knew how to criticize forms very good. He had seen a lot at a very young age, and since a young mind was very malleable, he soaked in the information like sponge submerged in water. _

"_Ne, aniki, your left foot's not form," he called out from the porch, not noticing the amused glance his father and mother sent his way. "You'll be not balanced if you do that!"_

"_Imbalanced, Ryoma, it's imbalanced," corrected Rinko fondly with a kiss on the small child's cheek. She giggled when a peeved Ryoga eyed his own left foot and struggled to correct his "not balanced" form._

"_I-Imbalans," Ryoma struggled with the new word. Though he was a smart boy, it was after all a quite advanced word for a five-year-old._

_Nanjiroh chuckled, helping Ryoga correct his form. Ryoma, meanwhile, stood from his seated position on the steps, picked up his smaller racket, and walked over to the courts. Absentmindedly eyeing Ryoga, he didn't notice his untied shoelaces._

"_Oof!"_

_Nanjiroh and Rinko both looked on at the smaller child. Ryoma had tripped—_tripped­_—on his shoelaces. It hadn't happened ever before, even during the first time Ryoma was in charge of tying his shoelaces. Never._

"_Oiya? Chibisuke, you okay?" called Ryoga, moving away from his service spot and helping his smaller brother up. He brushed the dirt off Ryoma's jumper and wiped the smudged dirt on said younger boy's face gently. Then he knelt and started tying his shoelaces. "You have to properly tie your shoelaces, especially before playing. You can lose just because of that, you know."_

_Ryoma simply pouted in defeat, harrumphing and crossing his little arms cutely. Ryoga chuckled at his little brother's face, softly and fondly pinching the end of Ryoma's nose in amusement. _

"_Chibisuke's so cute."_

_There was a click and a flash that made Ryoga look up in surprise, only to find Rinko with a camera, swooning at the 'adorable cuteness of her two little cherubs'. Inwardly, the older child shivered. He saw the family pictures the night before, and there had been quite a few pictures where a harassed Nanjiroh was trying to steal a clueless Ryoma from an overly enthusiastic Rinko. The woman was dressing the youngest of the house in different girly outfits and mascot costumes, one of which was a cherub costume. Though Ryoma was indubitably adorable in the picture, it still didn't change the fact that Rinko was a monster incarnated from hell for the boys. She wanted a girl, so she _made_ them girls. _

_That idea was not exactly appealing to Ryoga. He hoped there was no circumstance in which he'd have to dress up like that. It was the utter humiliation to his manly pride. (Yes, even kids like him had men's pride.) _

_Ryoma, however, was not following the same train thought as Ryoga. Instead, the young child was busy being annoyed at his new older brother coddling him. (Because Ryoma wasn't used to being spoiled. Yet.)_

"_I am _not _cute!" Ryoma pouted indignantly, glaring daggers at Ryoga. Ryoga simply laughed. Apparently, the younger child felt outraged at being called such a 'feminine' word._

"_Oh, but you _are_, Ryoma-chan!" Rinko cooed. More clicks followed that statement. _

_Nanjiroh simply watched the scene with amusement. _He's just as cute as I was when I was a kid.

* * *

_Nanjiroh made way as his two children charged into the kitchen with loud yells and roars, chasing each other around the already set dining table. They were having the first dinner with Ryoga as a part of the family, and it was a special event (or so Rinko had said). The food was enough to feed a whole family of twelve, and the table was set for a feast._

"_Ne, Rinko… didn't you overdo this a bit?" he voiced uncertainly, not even sure if he should ask his wife that question for fear of instigating her wrath. (Nanjiroh wholeheartedly agreed with whoever made the quote 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' during that time._

"_Hmm? Were you saying something, anata?" Rinko asked with an angelic face._

_Nanjiroh sweated. "No, no, nothing," he nervously chuckled, knowing that look. The angelic face meant the demon behind was rearing its ugly head. He inwardly shivered, immediately turning his attention to his two children, who were now wrestling on the kitchen floor. "Hora, you two! Get up and behave yourselves! You do not make food wait!"_

_At the word 'food', Ryoga and Ryoma both stopped wrestling, dropped their rackets—which they'd been using to whack each other on the head and kill of a couple thousand neurons along the way—and immediately stood at attention. Nanjiroh grinned down proudly at his little soldiers slash tennis prodigies and future sport stars._

_Dinner was always a lively affair with the Echizen family. Nanjiroh and Rinko made sure it was. Due to job demands, Rinko was often out of the house, and the two kids were often left with Nanjiroh (who really didn't need to work any longer considering all the savings he managed to pull together through the time he was a superstar, as well as the special jobs he gets every so often from his previous colleagues and acquaintances). As such, dinner was just about the only time the family was complete._

_Nanjiroh always sat on the head seat of the quaint rectangular table, while Rinko sat on his right side. The two kids sat on his left, Ryoma beside Nanjiroh, and Ryoga beside Ryoma. Sometimes, Ryoma was a tad picky with the food. As such, he sometimes refused to eat right unless supervised. So he always had to sit beside Nanjiroh and within Rinko's reach. The child was, after all, a growing athlete. Malnutrition wouldn't do._

_Ryoma poked around on his bowl and suddenly paused his shovel-food-into-mouth mode. "No more prawn," he deadpanned._

"_Huh?" Ryoga voiced his wonder. This was, after all, his first dinner in his new home. He knew nothing of traditions._

"_Ara, gomen, Ryoma-chan, there're no more prawns here…" Rinko muttered in dismay as she checked the huge bowl of soup in the midst of the table._

_Nanjiroh paused his eating. _No more prawn…? That means…

_Ryoma's face darkened. "I want prawn," he said, once again in a dead, monotonic voice. However, there was evident hostility hovering behind the child's words._

_There was a pause._

"_I. Want. Prawn," Ryoma recited again, the decibel of his voice raising a pitch or two._

"_A-Ahh, but Ryoma-chan, there's no more prawn here…" Rinko trailed off._

_And for the billionth time since he's met Rinko, Nanjiroh was awed by his wife's courage. Ryoma's scorn was a frightful thing, having combined his mother's slow, scorching fire and his father's continuously burning passion when angry. Hopefully, Nanjiroh thought, his child also inherited the courage from Rinko. He swore the woman feared _nothing

_Back to the current predicament, Ryoma frowned deeply. He looked down at his prawn-deprived soup balefully, eyeing the food. He wasn't satisfied without prawn. He wanted prawn._

_There was a deep silence over the Echizen family's dining table as they waited for the young one to breathe once again._

_Then, as if a light bulb went off over Ryoma's head, his eyes lit up and a devious smile crawled upon his face slowly. He scrambled to sit higher on his chair and looked around the bowls of the three other people inside the room, before his eyes stopped over Ryoga's bowl—the bowl which had the most prawn._

_He grinned and lifted his fork._

"…_AH! CHIBISUKE!" yelled Ryoga, as Ryoma forked three prawn pieces from the older one's bowl in one go before dumping them into his own bowl. "YOU CHEAT!"_

_Ryoma simply grinned and stuck his tongue out at his brother, before edging away and starting to once again shovel food into his mouth. Nanjiroh heartily chortled at the creativity of his younger son._

"_If you don't have enough, get more from somebody who has too much!" Nanjiroh nodded, going back to his food. _

_Rinko simply shook his head, watching Ryoma steal a few more pieces from an indignantly hollering Ryoga. _

Boys will be boys.

* * *

_Echizen Ryoma was a bright little boy. _

_Contrary to popular belief, behind that innocent, angelic expression on his handsome young face was a brilliantly devious mind that was perfectly capable of coming up with ways on how to double cross and/or cheat on other people. Even those older than himself. effect He knew how to take care of himself at a tender age of five, and he was taught well with how to communicate with other people despite his naturally introverted predisposition. _

_Ryoma, even at a young age, knew what the adults were talking about. He knew what most of the words meant—his mother was a very good teacher—and he understood things that aren't supposed to be even heard by young boys like him. He was advanced for his own age. _

_However, people liked to judge based on appearance. As such, his gentle, innocent composition often fooled the majority of the people who had the chance to meet him. People often miscalculated with him (which was the major advantage he had over his fellow competitors in various competitions he had joined) and underestimated him (which was his major ace when it came to tennis). His small and lithe form, plus the silent and shy behavior, averted eyes, and expressionless face often misled people._

_Of course, Rinko and Nanjiroh knew very well about the true nature of their smart little boy. Ryoma had few interests—tennis, plush cats and food (particularly European sweets) among them—and was often disinclined to mingle with too many people. But he was smart and well-rounded. They did not discourage, however, Ryoma's natural introverted personality. Nanjiroh reasoned that being hard to read was a good ace in tennis; Rinko reasoned out that introverted people were fine just how they are and should be left alone._

_And this was why adults often talked around him carelessly, thinking that he was not listening—for he showed no indication that he was—and that he did not understand._

"_Did you know that the Echizens took in an adopted kid?" murmured one of his kindergarten classmates' parents. He went on with what he was doing—building a pyramid as tall as himself with small Lego blocks—without indicating that he had heard the adults. _

_Seeing the reaction (or more precisely, the _lack_ of reaction), the conversation continued. _

"_Yes, I heard," another woman said. "I think the adopted boy is older than their real son."_

"_I've seen him," another man gruffly snorted. "The boy's a real rough one—hard to tame. Nanjiroh's already got his hands full with a socially stunted kid… did he have to take another one—and a rebellious one at that—in too?"_

"_I don't think he's really an adopted son," muttered another woman. "The boy looks like the little one and the father. The eyes are different though, definitely."_

"_An illegitimate…?"_

"_Maybe," chuckled the man. "You know the father—hot stuff with the ladies."_

_Ryoma's eyes narrowed. He'd had enough. No one—_no one_—insulted his family. He was about to move forward, when Ryoga walked into the small garden where they were, still within the kindergarten facilities. The elder walked towards the adult unnoticed, until he intentionally bumped (or more like shoved) the man who had been speaking. _

_The man yelped, "Oy, watch where you're—?"_

_Ryoga pinned the elder man with a glare. "My brother is not socially stunted," he snapped. "He's just smart enough not to stay around waste—like you."_

_The man was taken aback for a second, before a snarl made its way up. "Why you brat—!"_

"_And for your information, my father is not a cheater," Ryoga snapped. "Don't compare him with the likes of you."_

_With that, Ryoga walked off from the man, ignoring the indignant snarls. He approached Ryoma, who was beaming up at him. "'Niki!" grinned Ryoma._

"_Eiyo, chi-bi-su-ke," Ryoga smiled right back, pulling off Ryoma's cap and mussing the mop of black hair. "Oya sent me to pick you up. Let's go!"_

"_Un!" Ryoma nodded enthusiastically, leaving his pyramid Lego and picking his already packed bag up. He pulled on his bag and took his older brother's hand, and they walked off._

_Later on, a few years after Ryoga left, Ryoma realized that even though the elder _did_ deny Nanjiroh's supposed disloyalty, he never did falsify the statement that he himself was born out of wedlock._

* * *

_Thunderstorms were a pain._

_The howling winds and intermittent lightning was not a very pleasant sight for children, and most got frightened by the shifting shadows under the torrents of rain and the sound of the rushing wind. Ryoma, however smart and independent and courageous the boy was, was no exception._

_He huddled under a blanket on his comfortable blue bed, clutching his small cat plush in his short arms. He shivered as a sharp flash of light set the room alight with a glow of blue, wincing as a loud clap of thunder followed soon after. The pounding rain sounded like a hundred sharp sticks tapping against his window, and the wind was like the telltale howl of a monster hunting for prey. Inwardly, he pouted at his father, who had been insisting they watch the horror movies as a family. Now, both Ryoma and Ryoga were afflicted (though Ryoga denied it vehemently, claiming that there was no way he would be afraid of such things)._

_Ryoma closed his eyes to avoid seeing the shadows swaying around his room. His imagination was an overly active one, and as such, he didn't want to aggravate his unsettled feelings any further. Shadows were, after all, interpretable in many different ways—not all being pleasant ones._

Don't worry, they're just shadows… just shadows, yeah… just shadows, and they're just because of the light outside, but the light is blocked by a monst—no! Just shadows! Just shadows!

_Little Ryoma mentally struggled to talk himself out of his fear, but it was a vain hope. He was already far too involved in his imaginary world that the moment he opened his eyes, a thousand different frightening and unsettling images poured through his mind. He saw the shadow of the lamp as a man with a hat carrying a butcher knife; he saw the shadow of his little tennis figurines as zombies rising and moving sluggishly around for him; he saw his clothes and the comforter thrown underneath the bed as hands and bodies crawling out from underneath._

"_No more!!" Ryoma cried out loud, picking up his plush and blanket and hurriedly dragging it with him out from the room. He darted across the hallway, scaling the short distance in speed and agility only attained by athletically trained young children. He wrenched open the first door he reached and shuffled inside, shutting the door with a loud snap that was covered by the thunder clap._

_He crawled into the bed as soon as he was safely inside the room, wiggling and wedging himself against the person—whoever it was—that was originally occupying the said bed._

_There was stillness for a few seconds, before a groan echoed through the room._

"…_whuzzit?" the person on the bed groggily asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes free of sleep-induced relaxation. Ryoga's eyes darted towards the lump on his bed that was not supposed to be there. He raised an eyebrow as the lump wiggled and moved towards him, as if snuggling towards the source of warmth. "Ryoma…?"_

"'_m scared," Ryoma whimpered silently, barely audible enough to be heard through the raging thunderstorm._

_Ryoga, however, heard it loud and clear. He chuckled, laying back down and gathering the lump that was his younger brother against himself gently. "Don't worry, Ryoma. Onii-chan is here to protect you. The monsters won't get you, Ryoma-chan," Ryoga gently murmured into Ryoma's ears, pleased with himself as the smaller boy slowly started relaxing more and more, his breathing evening out as slumber swept and took over._

_He buried his nose in the black mop of hair, inhaling the fresh clean scent of his young brother. waaiii do I see a foreshadowing of a ryocest?_

"…_sleep well, little brother… I'll be right here for you."_

* * *

_Ryoma sat by the front doors, faithfully waiting—but impatiently so—for his older brother to come home. He ignored the loud chatter behind him, certain that his new frien, the young Atobe, was far too gone into his own world to see that no one was listening to his tirade. Rinko was inside the house on a weekday for once, but she was doing work. Because of this, the two children were both forbidden to go anywhere near her office or the kitchen. Nanjiroh was currently out with some of his friends for an exhibition match paid for by some anonymous billionaire as entertainment for guests. _

And Ryoga-nii-chan,_ Ryoma thought with a frown._

_For the past week or so, he had been watching his strangely withdrawn older brother carefully. For some unknown reason, Ryoga was suddenly awkwardly silent among them. Nanjiroh simply waved it off as the pre-teen/teenage phase rearing its ugly head, while Rinko simply smiled approvingly as Ryoga pulled himself more into the books in their library._

_However, Ryoma was _not_ pleased._

_He did not know when the change started, nor did he know the reason for the change. Whatever it was, it had to be something really influential to Ryoga. No matter, though. Ryoma, whatever the reason was, did not care. He was not pleased, and that was that. He had lost his favorite opponent in tennis—because Keigo still sucked in his opinion—and as such, he suddenly felt lonely. Keigo was there, sure, and he inwardly appreciated the obnoxious boy's company—though he'd never admit it outwardly—but a brother was a brother; and a brother was different to a friend._

_And because of that, Ryoma had decided that if Ryoga wasn't going to move, then he would move by himself. He started being the one who initiated the games, the fights, the talks; he started taunting his own brother in order to have the elder taunt back and spark the old fire. For a while, it worked pretty well. Ryoga was reacting back, and no matter how hesitant his actions were, they were still reactions._

_Ryoma was happy._

_But then the forest incident came._

_Being lost with Keigo was a thing he didn't expect to happen, really. The necklace they'd gotten was a queer one, and Nanjiroh immediately confiscated the necklace upon sight. Ryoma could care less, though. Ryoma was more interested in how Ryoga reacted to his being lost with somebody who was previously in the elder's bad graces. _

_That was the only problem._

_Ryoga did not react._

_Ryoma was dumbfounded to find the preteen sitting by the van's passenger seat, playing a game on his GameBoy, completely involved in his own world. He did not even notice his little brother enter the back of the van, nor hear his name being called out lightly a few times, nor acknowledge that he knew his little brother was finally safe and sound. Ryoma wasn't even sure if Ryoga even knew that he'd been lost._

_From then on, Ryoga barely even talked to him or recognized that he was in the room. He occasionally greeted Ryoma in front of their parents and acted more open when Nanjiroh and Rinko were around; but when they were alone, they were as good as invisible to each other. Ryoma was not a clingy child, though, and as such, he didn't tell anything about the strange behavior to either of his parents. (Looking back, Ryoma realized that had he told his parents earlier, he would've managed to prevent that tragedy from happening.)_

_So he resorted to his last chance._

_Persuade his brother to walk him to the kindergarten when Ryoga came back from wherever he was._

_And so, here was Ryoma, sitting on his aching butt on the front porch's steps, with a loudly chattering Keigo running his mouth off behind him, and an empty—well, it looked and sounded empty and eerily silent since Nanjiroh was out—house above him._

_He sighed. "Ne, Keigo."_

"_Yes?"_

"_Urusai."_

"_No."_

_Ryoma sent a dark glare—something extremely close to the Patented Echizen Glare—down Keigo's way, but the young rising rich heir only smirked back with his usual aplomb. Ryoma rolled his eyes skyward. There was really no other person more arrogant than his new friend and playmate (and punching bag). He didn't dare say it in front of Keigo, though. He'd definitely take it as a compliment and add it to the list of things he boasted endlessly about._

"_Why are we waiting for your annoying brother anyway?" whined Keigo for the nth time that morning._

"_Because," Ryoma reasoned out in a flat voice._

"_Because what?!"_

"_Because."_

_A frustrated grunt from Keigo escaped as Ryoma looked up and watched the sky steadily darken. He didn't like gloomy, cloudy days—he was a sun person. But there was nothing he could do about it, was there? He sighed as he conceded. It was another one of those days again. Annoying._

'_It's going to rain," Keigo stated rhetorically._

"_I know. I'm not blind."_

"_Are we still staying out here and waiting for your brother? You can just ask your mom to drive you to the school—"_

_"No!" snapped Ryoma. _

_Keigo held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it. You're waiting for your brother."_

_Ryoma grunted, ignoring the first few rivulets of rainwater falling to the ground before him. Simple rain wasn't going to mess up his plans for today. He wasn't going to let his brother ignore him forever, and this was the perfect chance. _

_Keigo sighed as his own cellphone rang—the overly rich young boy was obliged to bring phones wherever he went so that his parents, caretakers, and chauffeurs could check up on him and get to him whenever he needed anything—loudly from his pocket. He fished it out and held it to his ear._

"_What?" he gruffly spoke._

"_Keigo-bocchama, your mother is calling for you. The Oshitari family has arrived, and your young friend Yuushi-bocchama wants to see you."_

_Keigo sighed. "Fine," he acquiesced. Right now, he was powerless from his mother. "Pick me up."_

_He turned to Ryoma, who simply shrugged and mouthed 'see you later'. Keigo nodded, before running off towards the front gates, where a chauffeur with a maid riding on something that resembled those cars they use on golf courses—they're called golf cars/carts appeared instantaneously as Keigo barked the order._

_And as thus, Ryoma was left alone with himself by the front porch's steps._

_He didn't have to wait too long, though. Soon enough, a familiar figure was walking down the paved dirt path that led towards their small house in the middle of their midsized orange ranch. (Why Nanjiroh picked oranges among all the other more practical, more easily propagated fruits was beyond Ryoma.) Ryoma immediately brightened up, before grabbing his schoolbag and slinging it over his shoulder. He ran towards the whitewashed front gates, wrenching them open and bounding towards his older brother, who was in turn quite shell-shocked to see Ryoma running up. (But Ryoma had the feeling that he was already quite shaken even before that.)_

"_Aniki!" Ryoma grinned, running up to Ryoga and stopping the almost-teenager in his tracks._

"_Ryoma…? What are you doing out?" Ryoga asked, startled._

"_Oyaji's not home, and okaa-san's busy. She told me to tell you to walk me to school," Ryoma announced._

"…_walk you to… can't you just ask okaa-san to drive you? Besides, it's going to rain soon," Ryoga reasoned out, eyes suddenly panicking._

"…_aniki, what's wrong?" Ryoma asked._

"_H-Huh?"_

"…_ne, aniki, are you mad at me?" Ryoma asked suddenly out of the blue, eyes searching. "Did I do something wrong?"_

"…_what makes you think that, Ryoma?" Ryoga chuckled quite nervously._

"_You've been avoiding me for weeks now," frowned Ryoma. "Are you upset at me? I'm sorry!!"_

"_N-No, I'm not upset at you, Ryoma-chan," Ryoga sighed, eyes looking back and forth before he pulled Ryoma into a close hug. "I'm just… busy, ne?"_

"…_okay," Ryoma acquiesced, accepting the half-assed answer for now. It was okay for now. There were other chances. If Ryoga didn't feel up to opening up now, then Ryoma wouldn't pry. It was one of the very first lessons he had learned while living with his brother. "So, let's walk to school?"_

_Ryoga sighed, eyes troubled._

"_Is there something wrong, aniki?"_

"_No, no, nothing," Ryoga assured, smiling a half-hearted smile at the younger boy. "Let's go," he said, taking Ryoma's hand gently and leading him away from the house. Ryoma looked wonderingly up at his brother, who was throwing wary glances around them and longing glances back at the house retreating behind them every once in a while._

"_Aniki? Did you forget something?" asked Ryoma._

"_Huh?" Ryoga asked unintelligibly, half-missing the question thrown at him by the younger Echizen. He shook his head silently as he regained his bearings. "U-Uh, no, no. No, I'm just checking if the gates… if the gates were closed properly…"_

"_Ooooh, yeah, because that ugly dog from Mr. Campbell's yard will come out and ruin the oranges again," giggled Ryoma. "Dad will kill us if he sees the oranges dying. But you know, I saw a squirrel this morning by that orange tree with the weird branch! It was reaaaally really cute! You should've been here!"_

"_Didn't it bite you?" Ryoga asked absentmindedly, tightening and relaxing his hand around Ryoma's smaller one nervously. Ryoma faintly noted that his brother's hand was unusually clammy, cold, and sweaty._

"_No, no!" Ryoma shook his head in firm negation. "It was very very nice to me and Keigo! Mother gave us cookies and nuts to feed it by the tennis courts. Oh yeah, dad took some of your tennis balls, aniki. He said he would use it for practice. And mom made tonkatsu for us for breakfast! It was really nice! You should've been there, you know… but of course, I still like our bread and omelet for breakfast! Just like you, aniki!"_

"_Hmmm…" Ryoga responded._

_But Ryoma took no notice of Ryoga's reluctance to strike up a conversation. He was too busy relaying his last few days to his older brother who was never there. He didn't even notice that they were going to the wrong place, and that the surroundings were slowly changing from the suburban to the nearby woods. He didn't notice that his brother was growing more and more nervous by the minute._

_And suddenly, they stopped._

"—_and did you know that squirrels can fly? That one in the backyard was flying… aniki?" Ryoma trailed off, looking around them. "Why did we stop?"_

_They were standing by a dirt path road just like the one that weaved through their small orange ranch and led to the front gates of the house. Ryoma recognized the place as the nearby woods. They must have been pretty deep into it, since the trees were pretty high, and the dirt path was not as worn, and was littered with untouched leaves. Sounds of nature filtered faintly through the foliage around them, and the leaves rustled as the light breeze picked up. _

_Rain was coming._

"_Aniki? Isn't the school the other way around?" asked Ryoma, tilting his head to a side in question. _

_Then without a word, Ryoga shook his hand free from Ryoma's tight one, stepping away from his younger brother. Ryoma's brow creased as he tried to clutch his brother's hand again and stand beside his brother, who in turn drew away farther._

"_Aniki…?"_

_Ryoga averted his eyes from Ryoma's bewildered golden ones, stepping away even further from the younger boy. He bowed his head and looked away as the bushes nearby started to rustle. He bit his lip, apparently contemplating about something and was having quite a hard time making a solid decision. He winced slightly as Ryoma whimpered._

_About seven guys had just emerged from around them. They were hidden in the woods, apparently waiting for them. Ryoma looked up at the unfriendly, leering older faces, biting his lip in uncertainty and fear. He started inching away, at the same time calling for his brother._

"_Aniki!" he called out, his eyes darting towards Ryoga, who was standing back behind an eighth guy, who appeared to be the leader. All the guys were teenagers—even older than Ryoga—and they were all stacked and well-built. There was absolutely no chance of escaping._

_Ryoma, though a mere child, was not dumb. He knew an attacker when he saw one, and he knew that this was no ordinary situation in which they ran across some of Ryoga's older friends and they were going to hang out like good boys. No, he knew that this was different, and he knew that he stood no chance unless Ryoga came and defended him._

_From what was taking place, it was evident that Ryoga had no intention whatsoever of doing so._

_He whimpered again. This was not going well._

"_Good job, Ryoga," spoke one of the leering teenagers—Ryoma didn't know which one. For him, they all looked the same: menacing hulking giants with every intention of harming him. "You brought him here as promised. The boss is gonna be pleased."_

_Ryoga simply remained motionless, his eyes overcast with shadows. The foliage ruffled once again as the wind picked up speed and strength. Ryoma jumped as a droplet of rain landed on his exposed nape, the cold water foreign against his hot, flushed skin._

"_Aniki…?" Ryoma called again, making some of the teens laugh. Ryoma slightly noted that as one of the teens turned, a glint of metal shimmered from inside the open front buttons of the teen's polo. He caught sight of a familiar dragon-tailed lion pendant._

"_He's calling for his brother!" _

"_Ei, Ryoga, sure you don't want to help the little whelp?"_

"_Look at him, he's shivering!"_

_And shivering he was._

_Ryoma was not fond of cold, wet weather, and he was sure Ryoga knew this fact, even if the older boy's stay counted only up to six months. He inched away slowly, trying to find a way out of the situation he was in. He was not dumb; he knew that his brother was not going to help him. His conscious brain knew this as a fact._

_But he wasn't listening to his conscious brain, even if his body was. _

_He stubbornly wanted to believe that his brother was his savior—would be his savior—and that his brother was the perfect image of an elder brother he wanted to imitate. Ryoga was his idol, his comparing image; there was no way Ryoga would forsake him._

"_Aniki!"_

"_Your brother's not going to help you, you little piece of shit, so shut _UP!_" yelled one of the boys._

_Pain exploded._

* * *

"_Tadaima!" Nanjiroh called into the empty house. He paused for a moment, waiting for a telltale reply, but got nothing. He tilted his head to the side. "Ara? No one's home?"_

_He let himself in, dropping his dirty bags down by the door and shedding his shoes. He padded into the house in his socks, looking into the empty kitchen. He checked the darkened living room as well, flicking on one sidelight for partial illumination. It wasn't good to have the house completely dark when they had kids running around. He moved past the living room and to the library and office._

"_Rinko-chan, there you are," he grinned, calling the attention of his very preoccupied lawyer of a wife._

"_Ara? Nanjiroh, gomen, I didn't hear you knocking," Rinko apologized. She rose, saving her files, and greeted her husband with a hug and a kiss. "I have lots of clients and their hearings are right next to each other, so this is field day… I'm really sorry."_

"_It's okay, honey," Nanjiroh shrugged. "You'll be fine. You're a perfect lawyer, anyway."_

_Rinko sighed and simply shook her head. "I don't know whether the kids are still playing outside. Last time I checked, Keigo and Ryoma were in the front porch, waiting for Ryoga."_

"_Front porch?" Nanjiroh echoed. "No one's there. And I checked the backyard when I parked the car in the garage—no one's there either. I thought there were inside, eating or something… it's quite late already."_

_Rinko glanced at the clock that read 4:00 PM. "Oh goodness. They haven't had lunch yet! Last time I checked, it was 10:00… I told Ryoma to wait for Ryoga to take him to kindergarten, since his classes start at 11:00!" exclaimed the harried mother. _

"_Maybe Keigo's already called for his servants," shrugged Nanjiroh. "The kitchen's virtually untouched."_

"_Yes, well, I told them to stay away from the kitchen. I know how disastrous the male species are when inside the kitchen," Rinko flatly stated, raising an eyebrow at a sheepishly chuckling Nanjiroh._

"_Aren't they upstairs, perhaps?" Nanjiroh questioned as the two of them went out of the office and up the stairs. The two of them quickly checked the rooms—empty. "Then again, maybe not."_

_Rinko leaned over one of the windows in the hallway, checking the backyard from above. She scanned the makeshift empty tennis courts, and the paths between the orange trees. There was neither a sign of the kids, nor of them even going there. It was far too clean; far too untouched. Far too empty and devoid of laughing, cajoling kids running around. _

_Rinko immediately recognized the bubbling worry inside her; her maternal instinct was kicking in. This instinct of hers was very strong when it came to Ryoma; she guessed it was because Ryoma was her only child. Though she wasn't as close to Ryoma as Nanjiroh was—and she blamed her work for that—she still was the boy's mother; and she knew Ryoma's personality like the back of her own hand. Her maternal instincts, as the doctors and experts called it do you really need this?, often kicked in whenever Ryoma was in grave danger._

_Once long ago, when Ryoma was a baby, she felt a twinge inside her while she was cooking, a twinge that somehow she connected to her baby boy. She rushed to where Ryoma was supposed to be—in his playpen—only to find him missing. The inquisitive young child had followed his play ball rolling across the living room, to the hallway, and out towards the open front door. It was summer, and the house was very stuffy, so they aired it out by opening doors and windows. The small tennis ball rolled out towards the front porch and down the steps, to the front lawn. And Ryoma was following it. She managed to snatch Ryoma up before the child tumbled head first down the steps and snapped his neck._

_Another time was when Ryoma was three years old, lively and smart, but always prone to danger. The boy had escaped his mother's watchful—but evidently not enough—eyes and toddled off out of the restaurant they were eating in with some family friends during their short trip to Seattle. The child was almost run over by a car had Rinko not walked out of the restaurant to relieve the strange feeling in her chest with some fresh air—she guessed it was the scent of alcohol and wine in the formal restaurant—and seen the boy crossing the road._

_And given those situations—and a bunch of other minor ones too—Rinko immediately recognized the feeling in her chest._

"_Nanjiroh," she called out to her husband, staring out towards the sea beyond their house blankly. _

"_Hmm? What is it, dear?"_

"_Nanjiroh, Ryoma's in danger," Rinko gasped out, her hands clenching at her side._

"_Huh? What?" Nanjiroh aked after a silent pause. The statement apparently escaped Nanjiroh. "How—how do you know?"_

"_That instinct, dear, that feeling I always tell you about whenever Ryoma's in danger," Rinko explained in broken, preoccupied gasps. She was apparently busy thinking up places where Ryoma could be. "We need to hurry, Nanjiroh."_

_Nanjiroh's eyes widened as he finally comprehended what Rinko was trying to say. At once, the Echizen patriarch pulled out his cellphone—one of those really old models—out of his pocket and dialed the Atobe residence. As soon as the majordomo answered, he immediately spoke. "Katsura-san, have you seen Ryoma?"_

"_Echizen-san? No, I haven't, sir," the middle-aged majordomo replied. "The last time I saw him, sir, was when I picked up Keigo-bocchama from your house this morning when his mother called for him."_

"_Around what time was that?"_

"_Around 10:30 in the morning, sir," replied the majordomo again._

"_10:30?! Shit!" he exclaimed. "Ryoma's missing. Please tell Keigo."_

"_Yes, sir, right away, sir," replied the majordomo, before putting the phone down and bustling off. _

_Nanjiroh frowned, following Rinko, who had already rushed down the stairs after listening to the first part of Nanjiroh's conversation with the Atobe family's majordomo. "Rinko, can you call the kindergarten? Maybe Ryoma's still there. I'll go check outside again."_

_Rinko did as she was told, her hand clenching and unclenching around the phone as she waited for the other side to pick up. As soon as the secretary of the head's office in the kindergarten school picked up, she spoke, cutting off the woman. "I'm sorry, but this is an emergency. This is Echizen Rinko, Echizen Ryoma's mother. Is my little boy in there right now?"_

"_Hold on, ma'am, let me check," the secretary said, pausing momentarily as the sound of papers ruffling reached the phone. After a brief pause, the secretary spoke again. "No, ma'am, he isn't here. In fact, he hasn't been here all day. Is there a problem, ma'am?"_

"_Ryoma is missing right now, and I have to go. Thanks," rushed Rinko, clicking off the phone and then clicking it on again almost immediately as Nanjiroh came back into the house, signaling that the kids weren't out in the yard. She dialed 911, immediately relaying the information to whoever had answered the phone without bothering with formalities. _

_Nanjiroh, meanwhile, headed straight to the garage, his nerves as calm as when he went to Grand Slam matches. He levelheadedly ran through the different possibilities sprouting from this problem, assessing the places where Ryoma could have gone. In reality, the real problem was Ryoma. Ryoga could hold his own; the boy was 12 years of age—barely a boy, really. Add to that the fact that he grew up in an orphanage; Ryoga was used to fending for his own and finding his own way in his own life._

_Contrary to popular belief, Ryoga was capable of handling himself. Though he did have a rebellious streak—which was not lost on any teenager on the face of the Earth—he knew how to make his own decisions that would in the end benefit himself and shape his life into what would be a good and prosperous one._

_Nanjiroh had faith in his son._

_He revved the engine of the car, pulling out of the garage and into the driveway, stopping just outside the house. He waited as Rinko came rushing out, clutching a cellphone, a jacket, and her wallet in hand while locking the front door. She practically flew around the car and got in after hurriedly pulling on the jacket. Nanjiroh moved the van out of the driveway, their front gates still open from where he had forgotten to close it after coming in. He was about to speed up when another car came up behind them and honked loudly._

_Nanjiroh recognized it as Keigo's car, and he wasn't mistaken. There the young rich kid was, sitting in the passenger seat and harassing his driver endlessly. He honked back while Keigo stumbled out of his seat and ran to their van. The seven-year-old struggled to pull the van's side door open, pulling himself in and sliding the door close._

"_Ryoma's missing?!"_

"_Where did you last see him, Kei-chan?" Rinko asked in a hushed, hurried tone as Nanjiroh took off._

"_We were waiting for Ryoga to come home outside the house!" Keigo exclaimed. "We were on the front porch's steps, and it was about to rain, but I left because the Oshitari family was visiting…"_

"_You mean you didn't see him leave or anything?" clarified Rinko._

"_No," Keigo shook his head._

"_Shit." "Crap."_

_Keigo stared as the two adults both swore simultaneously. Nanjiroh swerved off their road and out towards the town proper, switching the speed of the windshield wiper up as the rain hit harder against the glass, obstructing the view. Rinko scanned the woods they were passing—there was quite a stretch of woodland before their house and the Atobe's manor—the gates were not even a block away from theirs—and it was commonplace for being lost. Keigo, remembering the last incident, bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Ryoma and woods did not match. Ever._

_As the car slowly made its way through the woods—Rinko told her husband to slow down for her to be able to scan the outer woods—Keigo spotted a bush-covered path that strayed off from the muddy dirt road they were on. Beyond one point was the churning sea, and he could hear the waves crashing over the rain. But this trail led further deeper into the woods. He frowned, squinting as he saw faint movement among the shadows and distorted light due to the falling cold rain._

"_Rinko-baa-san, I see something there!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the path. Nanjiroh and Rinko both instinctively turned towards where Keigo was pointing just as another shadow of movement flitted across their eyes. "There, see that?!"_

"_Nanjiroh!" Rinko exclaimed, and they stopped. _

_The three of them immediately got off the car, not minding the pounding rain. Nanjiroh kicked away the bushes that covered the path, and discovered that it was not a _small_ path, but a large one, wide enough to allow a car. And sure enough, there was a truck a ways off from the highway. He also faintly noted that the path led away further into the woods and disappeared after a curve._

_But that was not what called their attention._

_It was what they were searching for._

_Ryoma was lying crumpled on the muddy ground, his face smeared in grit and tears and blood. His right arm stuck out at an odd angle—Nanjiroh winced, knowing that it was broken, and could only hope that it was a clean break—and his nose was broken as well. There were gash wounds and scratches peppering his legs, and bruises colored his skin all over. His shirt was ripped at places, and his jumper appeared to be ripped almost half-off which was why his shirt was exposed. His shoes were thrown off; one in a bush, and another one a ways off. _

_And then there were the people who were initially standing over him._

_The teens were now scrambling towards their truck, and they were getting away. One face caught Nanjiroh's attention, though. Startlingly similar narrowed Japanese eyes stared back at him in something akin to confusion, a mix of emotions; anger, guilt, pity, reluctance, hesitation, pain, and something else._

_Nanjiroh froze on his spot._

Ryoga…?

_Ryoma whimpered as Rinko wrapped him in her jacket, the gash in his head bleeding even more as he moved. "Aniki… don't… go…"_

"_YOU BASTARD!" screamed Keigo. "YOU DID THIS, YOU BASTARD!"_

_The truck was already driving off, though, and Nanjiroh was not sure if Keigo's scream had reached over the rain._

"_Aniki…" sobbed Ryoma, as Rinko cradled him up carefully, and walked towards the van._

"_Nanjiroh. Nanjiroh!" Rinko snapped, waking his husband up. "Nanjiroh, the van! We need to get to the hospital!"_

* * *

"…and that, folks, is the wonderful story of Ryoma's colorful past," concluded Nanjiroh.

In front of him, a mixture of expressions were painted on the faces of the players currently with him inside Keigo's chambers who didn't know about anything about Ryoga and Ryoma's past conflict. Ryoma, Keigo, and Kevin were unperturbed, however. It was only Fuji, Tezuka, and Toushi.

"Honestly, though, when Rinko was yelling 'the van, the van', it reminded me of when she was giving birth to Ryoma," chuckled Nanjiroh, stroking his chin.

Kevin and Ryoma simultaneously rolled their eyes, before catching each other and dissolving in fits of giggles. Apparently, Ryoma was being strong this time around.

_Well, he _did_ say he's not going to let himself be affected like last time,_ shrugged Keigo internally, fingering the tassel of a pillow on his bed. Fuji and Tezuka, he noted, were flanking Ryoma like loyal sentinels, while Kevin was stuck like glue beside a contented Toushi.

"But if you do this," Nanjiroh continued, tugging at Ryoma's arm—with a high-pitched bleat from the still giggling teen (there seemed to be some inside joke between him and Kevin)—and pushing back the mop of black hair. Ryoma's hairline was exposed, and Nanjiroh pointed to a faint line of scar tissue crossing at an odd angle with the newer one that was from the incident during the Seigaku varsity competition a few weeks ago. "You can still see that huge old scar made by that gash on his head."

Fuji and Tezuka leaned over curiously, the tensai even going as far as tracing the scar tissue with his pointer finger gingerly. Inwardly, Ryoma shivered pleasurably at the much-wanted touch. He wondered why he was keeping himself from that pleasure, and in a flash, the answer came to him. _One step at a time_.

"And also, there's another scar on his right arm where the surgery was done to repair the fractured bone," Nanjiroh remarked, tugging on Ryoma's right arm and showing them the very light surgical scar, completely unnoticeable unless shown intentionally. There were little blemished dots, evidence of the stitches. Fuji took the arm from Nanjiroh, holding it gently and looking down at the skin intently. Ryoma let him do as he pleased. "Thankfully, he was young, and his osteoblasts—those cells that made bone—were still pretty plenty and strong. The bone was repaired completely, and he was back in running in less than no time. His bones barely show evidence of fractures now. Everything was healed naturally without a trace—it was a clean break after all."

"After the cast was completely removed, though, Ryoma took a while to get accustomed to the feeling of his newly repaired arm, so he hesitated using it for tennis. And he'd already grown into his left hand—I had no one else to train, so I trained him endlessly even with only his left hand—so he grew dominant in it," Nanjiroh said. "I didn't stand for being one-handed, though. I planned on passing on every single technique I had after all—including Nitouryuu."

"Every technique, my ass," snorted Ryoma. "You've only taught me the Split Step, the Twist Serve, and Nitouryuu. Well, actually, you've only taught me the Twist Serve! The other two I learned on my own, copying you! When do you plan to teach me the _rest_ of your techniques, eih?"

"You already know the Teni Muhou no Kiwami," pointed out Nanjiroh.

"Not enough," reasoned Ryoma. "Teach me one technique with every win?" he bargained.

"No way!" Nanjiroh refused, crossing his arms in an X. "You win every time, Ryoma. With as much skill you have, it isn't a fair bargain, kiddo."

"Oyajiiii…" whined Ryoma.

"No," Nanjiroh refused. "I'll still train with you everyday. But I'll only _show_ you new techniques when I feel like it—or when you do something really _really_ impressive."

"Like?"

"Like what you did during your match with Federer… or better yet, your match with Sanada."

Ryoma groaned. "But opportunities like those are _rare_!"

"Which means you'll have to work hard into putting me into the mood to show you the techniques!"

"Twenty-seven," Fuji announced suddenly in a deathly still voice.

"Twenty… seven?" repeated Ryoma.

"Twenty-seven stitches," Fuji clarified.

"Oh, that," Keigo nodded. "Yes, twenty-seven. How'd you guess?"

"I counted the spots," Fuji replied.

"So? Twenty-seven stitches… and your point?" Kevin prompted.

"Twenty-seven stitches will mean twenty-seven punishments for him."

Silence met his statement.

They needed not think of who Fuji was talking about.

"I gather, for the first time, we now agree on something," Keigo slowly stated. A feral grin slowly crept up on his face.

Tezuka, Ryoma, Kevin, and Nanjiroh collectively let go of a suffering sigh.

"Fuji, _please_ don't do this…" Kevin groaned.

"Syuusuke, hold your horses," Ryoma said.

"No, I won't stand for anything less, Ryoma! He hurt you!" Fuji refused.

"And you did too," Ryoma silently pointed out.

Silence met that statement, before Fuji replied. "We suffered for it. You made sure of that."

"…then do you think I made Ryoga suffer?"

Silence met that question again.

Faintly, though, as Nanjiroh's memories carried him to that time when he was staring after his elder son's confused face as the car Ryoga was in drove away. He pondered on that last familiar emotion in his son's darkened eyes he couldn't place, that one emotion that he wasn't even sure he saw for certain. He wasn't sure if it was just his own illusion. And as he thought over it, he found that it was also the reason why he had welcomed his son back. That image—the image of his son's face moving away—was what had flashed before his eyes the moment he'd laid eyes on Ryoga again.

And as he glanced at Fuji and Tezuka's face, his eyes widened in recognition.

It was _regret._

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

…I am currently watching an extremely tearful soap, so excuse me if I shed some tears over the series. My mom's being… insufferably dramatic right now.

Also, note that this chapter will be uploaded unrevised. I will be uploading the revised version shortly when Tria-chan is available and revived from braindead-ness syndrome, in which she currently is suffering under (insert: because I bashed her head because she went of skiing and sledding without me).

I was also out for the weekend, in Baltimore, so there we go. This chapter is extremely late—for that, sorry.

_**Kiasidira Ixari**__**Aventria**  
First Publication Version: 03.27.07  
First Revision Version: 03.31.07_


	24. Step Twenty Four: Decisions

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

You might have noticed we skipped last week. Well, folks, some stuff came up, and we were quite busy. Apart from that, the plans for 24 and up had to be arranged and finalized, so we won't get all confused. We don't want a fic with no plot, now, do we?

Also, a post-note, my PC crashed. Just… uhm, last Sunday night. That's the 8th of April. It was Trojan-ed, and so there you go. All the data went swirling down the drain. So I couldn't update because I had to spend time restoring my PC to its former glamour before I could even start worrying about writing again! So there's my proper excuse.

DON'T KILL ME!

OOOOOOOOOOOH, by the way, PEOPLE, WATCH **PRINCE OF TENNIS OVA 13**!!!! Ooooooooooh, the AtoRyo and TezuRyo lovin'!!! That _has_ to be the best episode ever—_RYOMA SHAVED ATOBE BALD!_ (Kia-chan is still having post-acute-fangirling aftershock flails.)

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies. Furthermore, we rightfully disclaim from owning ITF (International Tennis Federation), nor holding any form of authority over it. We are simply using some of the names, and inventing some others. All of this is _fiction_.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Four: Decisions**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

"Come on, put your backs into it!!" yelled Nanjiroh. "You can do better than that! Run, run, run, run! Faster!"

Ryoga chuckled as he walked over from his own work-out—which consisted of 500 sit-ups—dripping in sweat. He eyed the 30 or so tennis players scattered up and down the beach, running like there was no tomorrow. As of yet, the only ones who were maintaining the pace were Inui (which was not surprising, since he was one of those who had insanely long stamina), Kaidoh (well, he _does_ jog at least 10 kilometers a day), Tezuka, Fuji, Ryoma, Yukimura, Sanada, Tachibana, and Keigo. The other ones were lagging behind at differing paces, among them some who were bracing themselves on their knees in exhaustion.

The elder Echizen son glanced at his wristwatch. It read 5:13 PM.

He snorted. _Well, they _have_ been running since they came back from school at noon._

"Right, 17 more minutes, seishounen-tachi!"

"Ne, oya, aren't you torturing them too much? I mean, I know it must be enjoyable and all to torture them like this, but still…" Ryoga queried.

Nanjiroh merely snorted. "They have backbones; they can do this. Besides, this is their daily training. They should've built up enough immunity to it by now. In fact, I should be increasing intensity soon."

Ryoga raised both eyebrows and whistled. "So they've been putting up with this for the last three weeks?"

"Yep," nodded Nanjiroh. "That's pretty much it. How 'bout you? What've you been up to the last nine years?"

Ryoga chuckled. "Running around with pretty little ladies. Winning tennis competitions left and right," he shrugged. "Burning off my money. Trying to get out of that godforsaken gang. Beating myself up with regret."

"Sounds like a tough nine years," Nanjiroh casually said in a cloud-free manner.

"Yep, that's pretty much it," grinned Ryoga.

"You do realize that you have a lot of explaining to do, don't you, young man?" Nanjiroh clarified, raising imploring eyebrows at Ryoga. "And you'll have to try _very, very hard_ to get back into Ryoma's good graces now. Maybe I _am_ going too soft on you like they say—well, they can't blame me, you're still my _son_—but Ryoma will be anything _but_ soft. He can be a downright vicious brat when he wants to be, and I'm pretty sure you know that well enough. I'm willing to listen to reason, but I'm not sure about him."

Ryoga soundlessly turned to stare at the still sprinting and sweaty younger Echizen, who was laughing with Kevin about something they'd been talking about. Somewhere along the way, Kevin, Toushi, and Shinichi had caught up with them, and now they were running side by side down the beach under the still heated setting sun. "I'll try my best, then."

"You'd better."

* * *

Ryoma chuckled loosely with Kevin as they joked about Keigo openly. The said rich young master was scowling in offense and annoyance, while Yukimura and Fuji chuckled right along. Sanada and Tezuka were both wearing contorted expressions on their faces, as if arguing inwardly whether to laugh or to tell them off. Tachibana simply shrugged it off, while Toushi and Shinichi chatted among themselves.

Inwardly, he was thankful that he was back on good terms with Fuji and Tezuka again. It had been tiring when he was on grounds of war with the two, and he didn't ever want it to happen again. That was one of the main reasons why he wanted to take it slow this time around. Keigo and Kevin were both as supportive as ever, and Toushi was taking his lead with Kevin, so things were going smoothly so far.

At least, until the damned elder brother entered the scene.

_Do I really have to deal with one problem after another? I mean, it's annoying. He's really grating my nerves, and it's only his first day here,_ he ground inwardly, shooting daggers of anger and resentment towards Ryoga, who was apparently chatting with their father. _And oyaji, you are so infuriating! How can you just accept him back like that right away?!_

"You can't blame him, Ryoma, he's a father to Ryoga as well, not only you," Kevin pointed out bluntly, reading his mind expertly like an open book.

Silence snapped over them as the sensitive topic was brought up from the dredges again.

"I guess, but still…" sighed Ryoma, as they turned around and went back, having reached the end of the beach trail. "…after everything the bastard did…"

"A parent's love is considerably deeper for their children than the other way around, Ryoma-chan," Fuji explained. "Your father is being impartial and fair by hearing out the both of you and staying out of the way. This is, after all, mostly between you and Ryoga. Ryoga didn't directly do anything to Nanjiroh-sensei apart from leaving without any explanation."

Ryoma sighed, defeated. He knew that whenever they teamed up on him like this—_especially_ when Fuji and/or Tezuka was/were involved—he always lost.

"Of course, Ryoma, because when it comes to things like this, you're about as sharp as the end of a dildo," quipped Keigo, reading his mind—again.

"How is it that you people can read my mind so easily?!" he indignantly spluttered. "And Keigo, _please_ use a more decent example next time."

"Because you're as open as a book?" suggested Fuji with a smile over Kevin and Toushi's snickers, and Yukimura's chuckles.

"Whaaat? Ore-sama's example was decent!"

"Riiiiight, and Kevin's not an incurable glucose addict," snorted Ryoma.

"Why you--!" growled Kevin, lunging and pouncing on Ryoma and gaining a startled cat-like shriek from the younger teen. The two tumbled down the beach and into the washing saltwater in a confused and tangled heap of bubbling smiles and laughter. The others paused, watching them roll down the beach and wet themselves, while starting to hurl handfuls of wet sand towards each other. A handful of wet sand, however, soared out of trajectory and landed smack in the middle of Keigo's twitching face, making all of them erupt in laughter.

Keigo roared and charged into the fray, calling the attention of the players nearby. Not wanting to be left out, Eiji pulled out a bucket out of nowhere and started dumping sand on the players near him, before running off into the water himself. Gakuto, one of his victims, started chasing after him, spewing very colorful language as he brandished the bucket Eiji had abandoned dangerously in the air. Oishi was chasing after Eiji to try and stop the redhead, while Oshitari simply placed his face in his hand and sighed.

Before soon, enough players were included in the playful skirmish to cause chaos on the previously relatively peaceful Atobe Odaiba Residential Beach. Sand was flying around as well as water, while they tumbled and rolled around, wrestling and grappling and trying to hit each other in their pseudo-war game.

"OI, 'taku, WHO SAID YOU COULD PLAY?!" yelled Nanjiroh, rubbing his head as they continued to ignore him. "These children!"

Ryoga simply laughed at him. "Tough luck, oya. Children don't listen to elders very much."

"You can say that again," Nanjiroh mumbled darkly as he shook his head. "Katsura-san, can you prepare the communal hot baths for them?" he called towards the majordomo, who was standing a few steps back. The elder man nodded and bowed deeply, before turning on his heel and heading towards the house, all the while barking orders at the lesser maids. "You, Niki-kun, are bathing with us and telling us your reason for being here. I don't think you're here just for me and Ryoma. There has to be some other reason. Else you would've just went home where Rinko is, darou?"

"You know me pretty well, oya," grinned Ryoga. "Yeah, there's another reason. I supposed I'd have to explain sooner or later."

"Good," nodded Nanjiroh. "Be prepared, then, with whatever Keigo, or Kevin, or Ryoma, or Ryoma's boyfriends might throw at you."

Ryoga sighed. "Sou na…"

* * *

"This is _heaveeeeen…_" moaned Ryoma in bliss as he sank deeper into the hot water Jacuzzi Keigo's majordomo had prepared for them. It was only him, Tezuka, Fuji, Keigo, Kevin, and of course Toushi in there, though. It was the Jacuzzi within Keigo's private chambers after all. Ryoma was really shocked into silence when Keigo had _invited_—take note, Keigo was the one who _invited_—Fuji and Tezuka to bathe with them. He had the bad feeling that the world was ending right then and there.

But right now, he didn't want it to end yet.

"Ryoma-chan, would you like a back massage?" smiled Fuji beside him.

Ryoma tilted his head to one side curiously. "Aren't you tired yourself, Fu—Syuusuke?" asked Ryoma, catching himself in mid-sentence and changing from Fuji's family name to his given name. At this, Fuji smiled even wider.

"I'm perfectly fine now, Ryoma-chan. And besides, I'm more worried about you. After all, you're Nanjiroh-sensei's favorite torture piece," chuckled Fuji dryly.

"Aa, I can see that," Ryoma deadpanned, his eyes narrowing balefully as he thought of his father. Then he sighed, his shoulders sagging and his eyes closing. "Then do you know how to do a shiatsu massage?"

"Mm-hmm, I do," nodded Fuji, reaching over to the bathing gel rack near the Jacuzzi and choosing an orange-scented one after scent-testing all of them. He lathered a generous amount to his palms and started spreading the gel on Ryoma's tense back. "Just lay back and enjoy."

"Oi, you two, no funny business," Keigo snapped. "Ore-sama does not want to see your gallivanting."

Fuji smiled surreptitiously. "Hmm? Are you _sure_ you don't want to see, Atobe?"

There was momentary silence, before Keigo spluttered and Kevin and Toushi erupted into laughter. "He got you there, Keigo!"

Fuji contentedly left Keigo to his own devices, seething and gnarling, and fully returned his attention to the job at hand. He didn't notice Kevin's pout behind him.

"Mou, I'm the one who's injured here, why don't I get a massage too?" pouted the blonde, crossing his arms with a huff followed by a pained wince.

"Kevin! How many times do I have to tell you to be careful with your shoulder?! You're going to reopen your wound!" scolded Toushi.

Kevin grinned. "Yes, _mom_."

Toushi twitched. "Damarenasai ka?" (_t./r: Won't you shut up?_)

Kevin simply giggled.

And then there was a knock.

"Yo-hoo! Seishounen-tachi, is there any more space left for me and Niki-kun? You see, all the other baths are full," came Nanjiroh's floating voice from the other side of the bathing chamber's doors.

Ryoma rolled his eyes, while Kevin called out, "More than enough space, ji-chan! I don't even know if I should call this Jacuzzi; it's more of a bubbling pool."

Keigo puffed his chest out in pride. "Mochiron. Ore-sama settles for no less."

"Damare, Keigo, we're not talking to you," both Kevin and Nanjiroh dismissed, much to the added annoyance of the rich heir. The door swung open slowly to welcome in Nanjiroh and an ogling Ryoga behind him, whistling low at the expensive furniture and the eccentric Western-style design.

"Damn, you really pack some stuff, doncha, Kei-chan…?" he whistled, extending a hand out to touch one of the wild animal sculptures lining the walls of the bathing chambers. "These must cost at least a few hundred thousand in the black market if they're authentic amethysts," he remarked, gazing at the eyes of the black onyx jaguar.

"And just how would you know the cost in the black market, eih, _Ryoga_?" Keigo asked.

As if already expecting the scathing remark directed to him, Ryoga shrugged it off like a cow brushing dirt off its back. "Been there, several times," he explained, shedding his bathing robe but leaving on the towel around his waist. He stepped into the far end of the pool. "Not a very happy place to be. Not very safe either."

"I'd wager as much," Keigo calculatingly answered. "Care telling us what in the world you were doing in such a place?"

"Even I don't know," shrugged Ryoga. "No one told me stuff; just keep quiet and do your job, they said. And you earn your money right. You hear nothing, see nothing, know nothing. That's how they work."

"Ja, _onii-chan_," Ryoma cut into the already tense conversation sharply and tauntingly. "Tell me, please. How much did you get paid for that itsy bitsy little beat-up job by the forest nine years ago?"

Ryoga's eyes darkened. "I didn't get paid for that."

Ryoma was caught off-guard for a moment. _He didn't get paid? What does he mean he didn't get paid…?_

"Shounen, never mind that for now, that's not the reason he really came here," Nanjiroh hurriedly dismissed, dispersing the tension in the air immediately. "I didn't come all the way here to hear you two argue; you can settle that on your own one day. Hora, Ryoma, you're ruining your shiatsu massage, you know! Stay still and relax! And you, Ryoga, had better start explaining about this ITF thingy you were mumbling about earlier. Now."

"ITF?" echoed all of them except Ryoga and Nanjiroh.

"What does ITF have to do with this, Nanjiroh-sensei?" asked Tezuka, who'd been silent the entire time he was there. Ryoma assumed he was meditating, since he was all isolated in one corner too.

"That's what I'd like to know. Saa, Niki-kun, care to explain?" Nanjiroh shrugged, turning to Ryoga and waggling his eyebrows.

Ryoga sighed. "ITF sent me as a representative to talk to you lot about a scholarship at ITF-EUSCH Center for Learning."

* * *

"Momo-chan's shampoo, Momo-chan's shampoo…" hummed Momoshiro as he dried his hair off with his favorite towel, which was striped blue and white with burger patterns scattered on it. After he was satisfied that his hair was dry enough to be let alone to dry completely by airing out, he settled the towel on his shoulders and adjusted his sleeping shirt, before placing his bathing materials off in one corner of the two-bed room.

It was another one of those incredibly taxing, tiring practice days. Nanjiroh was nowhere near letting them off; the elder Echizen seemed to have some semblance of sadistic genes from similar to Fuji's and Inui's. Though he had to admit, the training was doing him good. Playing was _much_ easier now; when he removed his weights, his body was featherlight. According to Inui, his shots increased strength by fifty percent, which would mean he doubled his previous strength reservoir—that was already saying a lot.

Then his stomach growled. He sheepishly grinned to himself. _Let's go down for a snack, hmm,_ he mused to himself, heading for the door. He was about to grab the doorknob when the door slammed open into his face and knocked him backwards violently.

He landed flat on his butt a few feet from the door, clutching his abused nose. "OI, WATCH IT WITH THE DOOR, DAMN IT!" he yelled, only to find himself face to face with a very mad and very frustrated Kaidoh. "Ara, mamushi…?"

"Is someone sleeping in here besides you?" Kaidoh asked straightforwardly.

Momoshiro saw the dangerous glint in the dubbed Snake's narrowed eyes, so he didn't deviate any further from the question. "No, Nanjiroh-sensei moved Kamio out to another room since we argued too much."

"Good, I'm taking this other bed," announced Kaidoh, before turning on his heel and heading out the door again.

"Wha—?!" scrambled Momoshiro after Kaidoh's retreating back. He caught up easily with Kaidoh, who was almost sprinting back towards his own room that he shared with Inui. "What—why—whaddya mean you're taking the other bed?!"

"I'm switching rooms right _now_," Kaidoh clarified with a growl.

Momoshiro raised both his eyebrows. He grabbed Kaidoh's arm and planted his feet firmly, stopping the Snake in his tracks in the middle of the longest corridor the mansion had: the East Wing corridor. "Wait. You're switching rooms."

"Yes, dimwit! Can't you get it into your head, pea brain?!" hissed Kaidoh.

"Am I safe to presume that this has something to do with Inui-senpai?" Momoshiro asked carefully, his entire countenance speaking of serious concern for his friend and rival. For once, they weren't on war grounds.

Catching the drift, Kaidoh rode along with the temporary truce. He averted his gaze to the ground and nodded his head silently.

"Then why are you transferring to my rooms, of all places?" Momoshiro asked dubiously, raising both his eyebrows. After a short pause, he shook his head. "No, never mind that. Are you sure about this? Did you let Inui-senpai know? Maybe the situation can be salvaged or something…"

Kaidoh chuckled ruefully. "I'd rather break up with him and start anew than salvage an already broken relationship, Takeshi. You know that I don't go for tattered second-hands or hand-me-downs."

Momoshiro was silent for a while, before he sighed and shook his head. "Sou na… it just would ruin your style," he nodded acquiescently, even though he didn't understand half of the actual situation. All he knew was that his best friend and rival was hurt and needed someone who would stand by him, and that alone was reason enough for his recognition. He slowly let go of Kaidoh's arm and pocketed his hands. "Well, come on, what are we waiting for? I'll help you move your things."

A startled Kaidoh looked up to Momoshiro's grinning face in surprise. He apparently hadn't expected his rival to accept things just like that. He'd even braced himself for a question and answer portion to their one-sided argument, but it seemed things were going another way. He sighed and shook his head. "You're still a stupid peach butt. You know that, don't you?"

"Shaddup, mamushi, and get your ass moving," bit back Momoshiro, seizing Kaidoh's arm again and dragging him off, before stopping five steps forward.

"…ehh, where's your room again?"

Kaidoh sweat dropped. "Baka."

* * *

Silence reigned over the bathing chambers, disturbed only by the peaceful trickling of hot water from the mouths of the tiger fountains lining the Jacuzzi that poured into the mini-pool.

"…come again?" Toushi voiced, not believing his own ears. "You didn't just say 'scholarship at ITF-EUSCH(1) Center for Learning', did you?"

"Yes, I did," nodded Ryoga amusedly, watching the expressions morph at alarmingly fast rates on the faces of the players surrounding him. "International Tennis Federation Eastern United States Central Headquarters Center for Learning."

"We _know_ what ITF-EUSCH means, bastard!" snapped Ryoma hotly.

Ryoga simply slid the insult off again like brushing dirt off his shoulder. "Still as bratty as ever, I see," he chuckled.

"Wait, wait, Ryoma, shut up just a bit for ore-sama, will you please?" Keigo snapped, turning to Ryoga and narrowing his eyes. Off to the side, Ryoma huffed and crossed his arms, backing into Fuji's chest and snuggling against the older player, who quickly acquiesced. Fuji was just as curious as anybody, but his priority, as always, was Ryoma. "Elaborate, Ryoga."

"Haaaai, hai," sighed Ryoga. "As demanding as ever," he shrugged, before leaning back against the side of the pool and letting the water from the tiger's mouth beside him cascade against his shoulder. "ITF is holding an international junior tennis competition—a _team_ competition. They're calling for the best and strongest in all viable nations, and they've got their eyes on Japan in particular since Ryoma-chan is here and oya is here too. They've heard of oya's coaching here, so they wanted to see what kind of players he was 'breeding', or so they said. So they called for you guys in particular."

There was another stretch of suspicious silence.

"I don't understand why they'd send you in without contacting me first, though," hummed Nanjiroh thoughtfully. "Maybe I should ring them soon?"

"I don't trust you," Ryoma blandly stated, still snuggled against Fuji's embrace.

"Big surprise," Ryoga drawled sarcastically.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Ryoma prodded again.

"Call them?" suggested Ryoga. "I assure you, they'll say the same thing."

Ryoma narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Why would they send _you_?" he challenged. "There are plenty of other negotiators out there they could send. Or they could just ask the branch here in Japan to fetch us. After all, we're here in Tokyo, and the ITF-EACH(2) is here in Tokyo as well, just a train ride away in Aoyama. They could easily contact us directly."

Ryoga shrugged. "Don't ask me; ask them. This is my first job for them; I'd just recently gotten in. I don't know much of their system yet. I actually thought I was going to be sent to the ITF-SEACH(3) area, but well… they decided to send me here instead."

"Maybe because you have blood relationship with Nanjiroh-sensei," Fuji suggested, still holding Ryoma loosely in a warm, comforting embrace.

"Maybe, who knows?" shrugged Ryoga. "How am I supposed to know how those old geezers think?"

Kevin sighed in frustration. "You could be a _lot_ more helpful if you had more information, you know."

"Well, sor-ry for not having enough!" Ryoga huffed. "I did ask them again and again for additional information they might have forgotten, but they said again and again that they'd given me everything. Go sue them or something!"

Kevin grumbled, shaking his head. "You're no help."

"Well, _thank you_ for saying thank you!" Ryoga sniffed, turning his nose up childishly. "You could at least observe courtesy!"

"Ah, give it up, Kevin doesn't know the meaning of the word 'courtesy'," Keigo dismissed with the wave of his hand, only to have his face meet a wet scrubbing towel.

"Why you great fleabag monkey king!!" Kevin positively screamed, before proceeding to hurl everything within reach at Keigo, including Toushi. snort poor toushi

Ryoma placed his head in his hands in frustration, while Fuji chuckled, kissing his nape softly and settling his chin on top of the black mop that was Ryoma's hair. Tezuka simply moved closer to Fuji and Ryoma, while Ryoga and Nanjiroh laughed at the monkey king that was currently under attack.

"We'll have to announce this later to the rest, Tezuka," Fuji muttered silently.

"Aa, I know," nodded Tezuka. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

Momoshiro unceremoniously dumped the duffel bag he was carrying on the bed, ignoring carefulness since he knew it only contained clothes. He traipsed over to his own bed, eyeing Kaidoh as the said player came in and settled two other smaller duffel bags down by the side of the bed carefully.

"You really sure you won't leave a note or anything for Inui-senpai?" Momoshiro asked. He was still a little weary about this; after all, it was not everyday that you have a mamushi coming up to you and announcing that he will share a room with you. He wasn't anywhere near complaining, though. This meant that he had a chance, and he was going to seize that chance. Inui was an idiot.

"What, and go back up there? Right now, I don't think he's worth the effort," snorted Kaidoh as he sat in front of Momoshiro and started putting his things into the bed's cabinets. Their beds were really neat; it had drawers and compartments underneath, so the space inside the room was saved since there was no need for space-consuming lockers or closets.

"Just exactly what did you argue about this time?" Momoshiro asked curiously. Kaidoh narrowed his eyes. Momoshiro flinched and immediately held up his hands. "You don't need to answer; I just needed to ask that question—"

"We didn't really argue about anything. He's just being a total jerk. I'm sick and tired of being the one who'd chase after him. The first time it was like that. The second time, it was like that too. Now it's the third time—it will be like that no more," Kaidoh firmly stated, continuing without pause what he was doing. "I bet he won't even notice I'm gone."

"Is it _that _bad?" Momoshiro asked, raising his eyebrows.

Kaidoh gave him a disbelieving glance. "It's worse than that, peach butt. Why; are you gonna throw me out if it's _not_ worse than that?" challenged Kaidoh, though with only a lightly teasing tone. Then his voice switched to a lower, more subdued and serious tone. "Weren't you the one who told me that you were there when I needed you?"

"I never said I was backing up on you," chuckled Momoshiro, looking down at his feet. "I just don't want you to go regretting what you did, you know. Regret is one thing you don't ever want to carry around."

"You sound like you've somehow experienced it," sighed Kaidoh.

"Maybe I have," Momoshiro shrugged. "Maybe I haven't."

"What kind of answer is that?!"

"Well, see, right now, I'm not too sure anymore," Momoshiro sighed. "Things are changing, see."

"…"

"Argh, never mind me!" Momoshiro exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air as a sign of dismissal and collapsing backwards on his bed. "Just finish that up so we can go down for dinner and eat. I think Nanjiroh-sensei had something to tell us… god, I hope it's not more torture practice!"

"Knowing him, I would think it _is_ more torture practice," snorted Kaidoh, before he resumed folding his clothes and stuffing them neatly into the drawers.

He didn't notice the thoughtful gaze Momoshiro had settled on his slightly turned face, nor did he notice the faint hopeful smile on Momoshiro's face. All he was thinking about was how much he wanted to pummel Inui to hell and back, and how much it hurt when things like these happened. And how much lack of choice he had.

Inwardly, he was just thankful that he still had a friend in Momoshiro.

He wouldn't have known what he could've done otherwise.

* * *

Kevin hummed silently as he slipped into his cotton shirt, careful not to put too much pressure or load on his wound. He inwardly winced as the pull of the muscle in his arm made a twinge of pain shoot through his whole upper side. He cursed guns and surgeries and vowed that he would _never_ ever do anything as foolish as getting shot ever again in his entire life.

"You okay there, Kev?" checked Toushi, as if seeing Kevin's contorted expression even if Kevin was facing away from him.

"How do you even know I'm hurting?" pouted Kevin.

"Well—"

"Never mind I asked, ignore the question," Kevin hurriedly amended, stopping Toushi in his tracks. He turned around and grinned at the white-haired boy. "I'm sure you're going to say I'm as open as a book again."

Toushi snorted and shrugged. "It's true," he dismissed. "Anyways, your wound."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"It was hurting, wasn't it?" Toushi sighed, walking over and pulling the neck of Kevin's shirt down carefully to look at the shoulder entry wound. "It's not bleeding. Good."

Kevin chuckled breathily, pushing Toushi's hands away from the wound. "You worry too much, you know that? I'm not a baby. I can take a little pain."

"You know, Kevin, time and time again I'll tell you, it's okay to let go once in a while," Toushi sighed. "There you go spouting that 'I can take pain' nonsense again, then you get hurt again, then you bottle it up. That's not good for your health, you know."

But Kevin knew that Toushi wasn't talking about the wound. The blonde inwardly smiled. Toushi was really concerned about him, and was not just pretending. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a good friend like Toushi.

"Hey, Kevin?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you planning on doing now?" asked Toushi silently, his voice taking on a rare, serious tone. Talks like these merited utmost seriousness and sincerity, because lies about these matters hurt the most.

"…I don't really know," Kevin admitted, pushing a hand through his flaxen strands. "Ryoma and I have reestablished our friendship, and well, as long as that's intact, I'm fine with just about anything. I guess… I'll be the usual number one best friend for him and… I dunno, search for my own 'knights in shining armors'?" he chuckled jestingly as he grinned up at Toushi, who just sighed and smiled right back.

"I guess we're back on our old tracks now, huh?"

"'Fraid so, my faithful friend," sighed Kevin, before grinning and leaning up. He softly planted a kiss on an unsuspecting Toushi's temple, before flashing one more smile and dashing out the door. "We don't want to make dinner wait, Toushi-chan!"

Toushi touched his temple and smiled down at his feet, shaking his head as he followed at a slower, more dignified pace after Kevin. _Then again, there might be some… editions… on this old track of ours. Yep, certainly a possibility._

And for the first time in days, Toushi felt that his chances were starting to look up again.

* * *

It was another one of those very amusing evenings in the ever-lively Atobe Odaiba Manor. Keigo chuckled amusedly, not remembering the last time the mansion was this boisterous and alive. Though the Odaiba Manor was his favorite manor within the Tokyo area, he knew that it was the loneliest manor, only used for private conventions and parties and functions, never for living purposes except during those times when he and Ryoma were both kids, with lots of free time and without responsibilities, always gallivanting around in different manors. This one was one of their favorites.

"KARUPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!!" screeched Ryoma, chasing after the yowling cat.

"MEEEEEEEEOWR!" replied said cat.

There was still an hour before dinner was to be served; apparently, one of the new maids blew up one of the stoves, and ruined the entire dinner's main course. Apparently Seigaku's youngest prodigy thought it best to take advantage of the free time and tried to bathe his already dirt-logged cat.

Karupin streaked down the stairs and straight through the lounge where most of the rest of the players were waiting for their dinner. Marui gave a startled, anguished cry as his cake was upended when Karupin scrambled under the table and weaved himself between their legs. Following the cat was the ever-persistent pursuer, who practically shoved the table aside and scrambled after the fleeing cat.

"KARUPIN, COME HERE!"

"MREOW! MEEEEEEOOOWR!" yowled the cat, before promptly hopping up over the chessboard in between Toushi and Shinichi. The said two players gave yelps of indignation as their chess pieces clattered all over the carpet. Kevin, who was watching sitting in between them, promptly seized Karupin, who screeched and flailed in his arms.

"OW! Ow—Karupin—my wound—OW!" yelled Kevin, reflexively letting go of Karupin as the cat sank his claws dangerously near his entry wound. He winced in pain, hissing as he fingered the long red claw scratches on his abused arm.

"Kevin! Are you okay?!" Toushi immediately asked, switching into mother hen mode and proceeding to fuss over Kevin, whose wound was thankfully still sealed and blood-free.

"My pieces!" grumbled Shinichi, scrambling to gather his precious chess pieces back together in its case.

"My cake!" wailed Marui in longing anguish. "Renji, I can't miss my pre-dinner cake! Get me a new cake!"

"KARUPIN, COME BACK HERE!" yelled Ryoma. "Somebody SEIZE THAT CAT!"

"Hunyaaaa—no!! Not my BEAR—NOO!! BEAR-CHAN! OI, OCHIBI, YOUR CAT CLAWED MY BEAR-CHAN!" wailed Eiji loud and clear for the entire world to hear. He clutched his abused bear to his chest, eyeing the cat and the master still chasing each other.

Tezuka entered the lounge room from the small snack bar, clutching a club sandwich in his hands, and eyed the chaos currently being wreaked by Ryoma and his cat. His eyes followed the streak of white and brown as it scampered round and round inside the room, before kneeling down and stopping it with his arm as it went his way. "Ryoma, you're doing it the wrong way," he simply said, before petting the still straining cat and slightly taming the struggling. He then reached to his sandwich and pinched off an end part of it, nudging to the cat's mouth.

Karupin mewled curiously and sniffed the piece of sandwich, which Tezuka laid on the carpet. Soon, the cat was nibbling calmly on the sandwich, preening under the petting Tezuka was giving him. Ryoma panted, leaning against the sofa as he caught his breath. Marui was still moaning over his cake, while Shinichi was mumbling and counting his pieces, triple-checking if he had everything back. Toushi was readjusting Kevin's bandages, while Eiji was being placated by Oishi.

Ryoma sniffed indignantly, before crouching down and petting Karupin himself. "You traitor. So you like buchou more than you like me now?"

"Mreow! Meowr meow…"

"But you're dirty! You haven't taken a bath in weeks! You _have_ to take a bath!"

"Mreoooooooooooooow…"

"No buts! You are taking a _bath_, Karupin."

"Meoooowr…"

"And don't you go whining on me, you big baby," Ryoma said warningly, before nudging the cat. "Go on, finish your sandwich from buchou and then we're going up for your bath. Go on."

"Meowr," sniffed the cat, before going back to the sandwich almost dejectedly.

Ryoma resumed petting his cat, humming a tone under his breath, completely oblivious to the assortment of glances shot at him from the other players in the now relatively silent room who'd heard his tirade with the cat. Most were bordering between disbelief and amusement, while others were simply speechless.

"…you can understand him, Ryoma?" asked Inui curiously.

"Huh? What kind of question is that?" Ryoma quipped right back, giving him a dubious stare, as if saying that understanding cats was the one thing every being on earth should be able to do. "Of _course_ I do!"

Players around the room face faulted.

"Yappari. Ochibi's just on a completely different level of understanding when it comes to cats," Eiji sniffed, petting his own Bear-chan and relieved to find that the cat hadn't managed to _completely_ damage his Bear-chan's leg.

"Why, of course. After all, Ryoma seems to have cat blood running in his veins," giggled Fuji, who popped out from the snack bar behind Tezuka. The tensai leaned down and scratched Karupin's head, making the cat purr in encouragement. "A spoiled cat and a spoiled master: the perfect pair. You two are just too adorable, Ryoma-chan!" Fuji cooed, before swooping down and placing a small kiss on top of Ryoma's head.

Ryoma just ducked his head abashedly and continued petting his cat. He was about to say something when Nanjiroh noisily descended down the stairs, complaining loudly to Ryoga who seemed to be faintly keeping a distance between himself and his father warily.

"—furiating! Why the hell don't they notify me about these things first?! They _forgot_?! What a fucking good answer!!" roared Nanjiroh, silencing the whole room.

Even Karupin stopped purring.

But Fuji, as fearless as ever, didn't see the need for himself to keep away from the infuriated elder Echizen. "I take it you've called them, Nan-chan-sensei?"

"Yeah, I have, and I wish I fucking hadn't!" snapped Nanjiroh, fuming and gritting his teeth in annoyance as he stopped near the bottom end of the stairs.

"Called who?" asked Yukimura from a corner where he was snuggled up against Sanada; who was still stoic even if he was practically doing public displays of affection with Yukimura. Kirihara was, as usual, being babied by Yukimura. The Rikkai Demon was peacefully snuggled up in turn against Yukimura, who was toying with his black locks.

"ITF," replied Fuji, Tezuka, and Keigo all at the same time.

"ITF?" echoed Sanada, finally displaying a change of facial expression. For a moment there Ryoma thought the Rikkai Emperor had frozen into stone (which was very possible, in his point of view).

"As in International—" Tachibana started.

"—Tennis Federation, yes," continued Nanjiroh for him with a snappy voice, cutting him off a tad bit hurriedly. "Everybody listen up. Is everyone in here right now?"

"Ehm, no, Kaidoh and Momo-senpai are upstairs, I think," voiced Ryoma, curling Karupin up in his arms as the cat licked off the last remnants and breadcrumbs from its paws.

"Yeah, uhm, Gakuto and Oshitari are upstairs too," Choutarou pointed out. He promptly stood. "I'll go and call them," he said, relinquishing the book he was reading to Shishido, who nodded and took it from him.

"Somebody get Momo-chan and Mamu-kun too," Nanjiroh sighed, before walking over to the big red sofa in the middle of the room and sinking into with a long tired puff of breath. "Go, go, go, go! We haven't got all night!"

"Ah, hai!" Oishi snapped into action, immediately standing and sprinting up the stairs.

Five minutes later, they were all settled down, with the rest of the people upstairs with them.

"Better start explaining, oya," shrugged Ryoga.

Nanjiroh grunted in annoyance, before releasing a whoosh of breath again. "Okay. So as all of you know, Niki-kun here arrived yesterday from the US. Of course, he didn't just come here for me and Ryoma; else he'd just have gone to Rinko first. He has a reason for going straight here to the manor."

Faces were faintly interested now. After all, only a select few knew about Ryoga and Ryoma's past, and Ryoga's real reason for 'abandoning' the Echizen family. Even the captains of Rikkai and Fudou knew nothing about that.

"Niki-kun works for the ITF. If somebody doesn't know what the ITF is, it's the International Tennis Federation, the organization that orchestrates almost all the major internationally acclaimed tennis competitions all over the world. They also recruit junior players, and have hundreds of headquarters all over the world. The main one is in Europe, but the ITF headquarters I'm talking about right now is not that one."

Nanjiroh opened his palm to Ryoga, and the amused player handed him a white sheet of paper with the visibly authentic ITF logo heading on it. "This, people, is an invitation. A proclamation, per se," he clicked his tongue and started to read a section of it. "_The players listed on this sheet have been included in the select few junior players from Japan chosen to join the International Junior Tennis Educational Camp to be held at ITF-East US Central Headquarters, Florida, United States of America. This is a complete scholarship, covering all expenses, including housing, food, education, and traveling costs. There will also be held an International Junior Tennis Team Competition, in which players will be narrowed down into two teams: a Varsity Team and a Reserve Team. Further details will be discussed upon arrival at the headquarters._ Or so it goes."

And the entire room exploded.

"A scholarship—"

"—Oishi, we're going to the US!"

"Did he just say—"

"—all expenses paid—"

"FLORIDA!"

"—international recognition—"

"—the sheet, let me see—"

"Are we all included?"

"I wonder what—"

"—THE HELL ARE WE WAITING FOR?!"

"USA, BABY, HERE WE COME!"

"—somebody get that racket from Taka-san—"

"OISHI, I DON'T KNOW ENGLISH!"

"Eiji, calm down—"

"Ouch! Oi, who the hell—"

"Everybody, SHUT UP!" roared Nanjiroh.

Silence.

Nanjiroh leveled a glare over them. "I am _not_ in a good mood tonight, so be sure you act like _humans_, not monkeys." (Ryoma sent a smirk dancing over to Atobe, who sniffed delicately and pointedly ignored his childhood friend.) "I have checked this list and have confirmed that all of you are here on this list. They are taking a maximum of 35 players from each of the countries participating, and from what I've heard, they even provided individual boarding buildings for you guys. This is a major huge event, and this means international exposure for all of you. They handpicked all of you, according to what my former colleague told me, since apart from the fact that you guys are all sitting on the top of Tokyo right now, I am training you personally. That got them interested. Now if there is anyone who wants out, tell me _now_, before I proceed further."

There was a silent pause, before Sakurai raised his hand.

"Sensei, I'm afraid I can't go. I know this is a good opportunity and all, but…"

Nanjiroh sighed and nodded. "I understand, Saku-chan. Your mother is, after all, having a quadruple bypass surgery next week. I won't hold anything against you for staying."

"Thank you for understanding, sensei," bowed Sakurai, before turning to Tachibana. "Buchou—"

Tachibana raised his hand. "You don't need to apologize, Sakurai. I understand."

"…arigato."

"Anyone else?"

"…I have to pull out as well, sensei," Ishida muttered, bowing his head. "I haven't told you this, sensei, but recently, my mother and father had a divorce, and I can't leave my mom and little brother alone here without anyone to help them out. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Ishida-kun," Tachibana said, patting his second player to pull out. "We understand."

"Arigato, buchou. I'm going to wait for good news here, so please do your best over there."

"Of course."

"Anyone else?" Nanjiroh called out again, crossing out Ishida and Sakurai's name from the list. When no one else answered, he nodded. "Yosh, then we're set. Start packing your things; we're leaving tomorrow noon."

And the room exploded again.

"WHAT?!"

"Tomorrow _noon_?!"

"THAT'S TOO SOON!"

"Does our school even know about this?!"

"I need to call my dad…"

"Hunyaaaaa, I have to get my Big Bear-chan from home!"

"Oh god that's not enough time to pack up…"

"Didn't I just tell you guys to SHUT UP?!" Nanjiroh roared again, shutting them all up effectively for the second time. The elder Echizen took a deep breath again. "Your schools have been notified. They will receive the mail tomorrow morning. I will let you go home tonight if you wish to get your stuff or talk to your parents or whatever you have to do. Do it now. Tomorrow, we'll be busy. I have to hand out your passports and flight tickets, I have to give you instructions… oh God, I'm starting to have a headache just imagining this. This is why I hate late notifications…" he grumbled, muttering profanities directed towards the ITF officials under his breath. Thousands of miles away, said officials sneezed.

"We don't have time to do the selections for the two teams here, so we'll do it there. It'll be like ranking matches, but we'll talk about that when we're there. Never mind that for now. Go ahead and start packing after dinner, or go home to your parents and let them know. The phone lines—there are twelve in total in this house, so you'll have to wait turns—are always open, so just let Katsura-san line up the phones after dinner and you can call whomever you need to notify. You can all leave now if you want."

"Ryoma, I already told your mom, but she wants you to call her. I think she'll be going back to San Francisco in a week or so, so we might meet her if she decides to take a flight to Florida."

"Haaai," droned Ryoma. "And just when I came back here, I'm going back to the US again. Damn."

"Kevin, you'd better call and clarify with Scott and the others, because they're joining too," Nanjiroh continued, ignoring Ryoma's comment.

Kevin and Ryoma both looked up in surprise.

"What?! But-but-how will that work?!" exclaimed Kevin.

Ryoma frowned. "They'll have to change the line-up, won't they?"

"No, that won't work, they'll _still_ be missing one player," pointed out Kevin.

"…damn," cursed Ryoma.

"That's why you have to call them," pointed out Nanjiroh.

"Wait, wait, who's Scott?" asked Eiji. "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind us, Eiji-senpai," sighed Ryoma. "Aren't you going home yet, Eiji-senpai? I thought you needed to get your Big Bear-chan."

Eiji gasped. "Oh yeah!!" he exclaimed. "I can't leave without my Big Bear-chaaaaan! Oishi, come with me? We can go to your house too if you have to pick up something!"

"Alright, I guess," nodded Oishi.

And with that, the players one by one slowly started dispersing from the common room, some going up to their rooms to pack, and some heading out to their homes immediately. Some opted to stay and finish dinner, and some were already seizing the phones and dialing their family.

"Saa, I'd better tell Yuuta-chan and onee-chan that I'll be missing for several weeks," chuckled Fuji. "Tezuka, are you going home?"

"Aa, I need to pick up some extra clothes and some of my things," nodded Tezuka.

"I need to go home too; most of my other tennis gears are there, and Karupin's stuff…" Ryoma trailed off.

"Then you can come with us, Ryoma-chan," smiled Fuji.

Ryoma nodded. "Un. Arigato."

* * *

"You seem tense tonight, Jose," purred a sensual, alluring voice.

"Sources tell me they will be arriving very soon. Among them, _he_ will be there," Jose smiled a feral smile into the darkness. "Showtime starts soon, my darling Dahlia."

"Entertain me, then."

"Oh, I will," chuckled Jose, a deep, rumbling laughter rising from the depths of his throat. "No worries, _mi bonita_, I certainly will…"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Heheheheh… next chapter will be _very_ interesting. But I'm _not_ giving away anything! You'll have to wait. XP

**(1) ITF-EUSCH** – International Tennis Federation – East US Central Headquarters (Miami, Florida)  
**(2) ITF**-**EACH** – International Tennis Federation – East Asian Central Headquarters (Tokyo, Japan)  
**(3) ITF**-**SEACH** – International Tennis Federation – South East Asian Central Headquarters (Singapore City, Singapore)

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 04.15.07  
First Revision Version: 04.19.07_


	25. Future Steps

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

**WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD**

This is exactly what the subject said.

One Step is back in the running!

Kia-chan's official three-week summer break is in motion, and as such, time will not be wasted! Kia-chan will start writing and planning for future chapters, and will assure readers that they will not be disappointed!

_This chapter is not an official chapter; it is merely a preview and teaser chapter I uploaded to give you a view on what will happen next._

* * *

**ONE STEP: THE SECOND ARC**  
_Chapters 25 Onwards_

**Teasers Galore**

The players finally arrive in the Big Apple, and as always with our gang, chaos ensues. Deeper plots rise as a shadow from the Echizen family's past comes to foil their quasi-vacation in the US of A. Nanjiroh discovers that the past's mistake may not just mess up the past, but may also wreck his--and his prodigy child's--futures.

Ryoga appears to be in a tight pinch with Ryoma and the overprotective boyfriends, but don't go whining now. Worse approaches as suspicions are piled one over the other on Ryoga's already aching head. The fact that the gang he was previously in starts chasing after him so intently again doesn't help either. Will he stay loyal or repeat a betrayal even if it is for reasons that point towards incessant loyalty?

A secret will also be revealed as Fuji discovers his real heritage and uncovers a network of lies set in motion by his French-American uncle to steal him away from what he really was. The tensai suddenly finds himself in the middle of a head-turning confusion of lies and cover-ups from the past that might very well explain his present, as well as the fortune he now suddenly holds in his hands.

One of our newest original characters gets pulled into the whirlpool of covered up blunders and affairs as he ends up back where his childhood started, back to the point where he will discover that he is not a lone child after all, and that he has a real blood brother in Fuji.

Didn't you ever wonder why Tezuka lived with his grandparents? Our favorite buchou finds himself torn towards two directions as he tries to decide on what his life will focus on. Pressure bears down as the international tourney approaches, and it doesn't help that his parents--which up until now were nowhere in his life--are pulling him into academics and away from sports, which means one thing: back to Japan.

Atobe and Fuji were never on good terms with each other, and there's no doubt that helping each other is the last thing on their minds with the pressure bearing on them from all sides. However, circumstances demand otherwise. The two find themselves struggling together to win on two battlefields: on the business scape, and on the tennis court.

Ryoma is a very flexible young man, both in the literal sense (mind off the gutters, I meant tennis) and in the figurative sense. He can juggle family, work, friends, love life, and his cat without any problems. However, this time he finds himself with a greater challenge than ever before. He's practically torn in all directions: prevent Tezuka from pulling out of tennis, prevent Fuji from bringing apocalypse upon them as the tensai finds out about his past, figure out what Ryoga is up to, weasel answers out of his father regarding the letters he's been receiving, balance his relationship with Kevin as they go against each other seriously on the court in an official match for the first time since their Junior Invitational Team match, and leash Keigo before the obocchama manages to tackle and chew the cocky opponents' heads off (among others). Ah, what to do?

* * *

**ONE STEP  
Sidestep One: Plane Alone**

_What happens when you leave 30 raucous players alone on a private jet plane without _responsible (Nanjiroh doesn't count) _supervision?  
Find out in this upcoming One Step special extra!_

**Preview**

Niou and Kirihara snuck unnoticed into the small compartment behind the bar where the huge containers full of their drinks were located. Curiously, Kirihara poked and prodded here and there, looking around at the complicated contraptions and numerous control buttons. Niou caught Kirihara's hands just in time before the teen flicked one of the blue buttons, hissing at the younger player for being careless and rash.

"That's the button for depressurizing the cabin, dolt! We'll all suffocate to death if you press that!"

And Kirihara immediately retracted his hand.

"Anyway, I've got a much better idea in mind than making us all suffocate to death," smirked Niou, pulling out a bottle of those odorless, colorless, tasteless, VERY strong, VERY alcoholic gins.

Kirihara, being adept and fast, immediately picked up.

Similar mischievous smirks were painted on both their faces as Kirihara unscrewed the bottle and Niou opened the refill hatches for the liquid containers.

On the other side, Ryoma pushed the red button for his Ponta and proceeded filling his and Fuji's glasses.

* * *

**ONE STEP  
Sidestep Two: Domesticated Cats and Dogs**

_Snippets of the players' manor life in Japan and in the US, unrelated and detached from the real story.  
We just want to have some fun._

**Preview**

"I hate the rain."

"Ah. We can only hope that it stops soon."

Pause.

Whine. "I want it to stop _now_!!" _So I can play tennis!_

"I know, neko-chan. We all do."

Rustle, rustle. Pause.

"Buchou…" Rustle. "Make it stop."

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Heavy groan. "A-As much as—_ahh_—I'd like it to, I can't."

Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!

"OISHIIIIIIIIIIII! OCHIBI IS RAPING BUCHOU!!!"

"EIJI!"

Pause. "Hey, that's kinda hot."

"Deshou, ne? I'll have to exploit Ryoma-chan's demanding nature next time we're in bed…" Chuckle, chuckle.

Pant, pant, rustle, pause. "No—_ahh, Ryoma_—not here."

Pause.

"OI SEISHOUNEN, KID CAPTAIN! WHY'D YOU STOP?!?!" Grumble. "And here it was getting good…" Crunch.

* * *

…

THERE!

See how much I've been planning for you? There're even extras! (Extras weren't really in the big plan.)

Anyways, I hope I placated you some with those snippets.

**SIDESTEP ONE will be coming out within this weekend.  
SIDESTEP TWO will be out next weekend.  
ONE STEP 25, the official start of the Second Arc, will be out on the normal schedule: Tuesday, May 15****th**

Cheers, then.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_05.10.07_


	26. Step Twenty Five: Hit in the USA

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Ya-hoi! Yes, folks, _finally_, here is the chapter where the climax arc finally starts. Bear with me here.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies. Furthermore, we fully deny any claim over ITF and all other subsidiaries and relations of ITF mentioned in this story. ITF-EACH, ITF-EUSCH, ITF-SEACH, and ITF-MCH are all fictional. We also deny any claim over JAL, Southwest Airlines, American Airlines, and any other air transport company that may be mentioned in this story, as well as over DTW (Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport), MIA (Miami International Airport).

_**Note:**_ _This chapter is late. I'm sorry again for the messed schedules, but Tria-chan and I are very busy right now with our academic workload. Tests are right next to each other, and projects are piling up. I do hope you make an effort to understand our situation. (We're even lucky to have enough time to write a few paragraphs a day.) The end of the semester is approaching, so we have no choice but to pause all other activities and concentrate on school. Finals weigh heavy on total grades, after all. (We even don't have time to watch anime anymore. Can you imagine the torture?)_

**Compensation:** This chapter is HUGE. I swear, when I say huge, I MEAN huge. We'll exceed the record of 11,000 words in a single chapter.

**Warning(s):** Nothing, except for the _tennis action scenes_ that have been missing for the last few chapters. This is a good opportunity to put them back into play. They might get boring and long, though.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Five: Hit in the USA**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Lost.

They were lost.

Eiji scanned the crowd around him, looking for a familiar face or a tell-tale sign of anyone—_any_one he knew. Never in his _entire_ life had he seen so many different people of different races in one place. Some were most likely just stopping over and to transfer planes to their destination.

"Ne, Inui, where are we?" he murmured silently, nudging Inui, who was beside him.

Inui cleared his throat. "Well, Detroit International Airport is… has a very complex floor map and…"

"Inui, say it with me," Oshitari exasperatedly deadpanned. "_I. Don't. Know._"

"He won't say it, no, he won't," clucked Momoshiro, shaking his head.

"Never," agreed Eiji with a firm nod.

Behind them, Gakuto and Marui stared at each other, the two acrobats wondering if they will ever get back to their group with this. The brainy ones who were with them were being no help. Inui was, for once, clueless. Renji was as clueless as Inui, and their Seigaku acrobat was doing nothing to improve the situation by instigating more confusion. Kaidoh was being even more unfriendly and unapproachable than usual (Gakuto would bet his life that it was because Kaidoh was actually scared shit out of his pants). Momoshiro was being the usual doofus that he was—and it wasn't helping any either—but strangely enough, the dynamic power player stuck tightly beside Kaidoh all the time.

Shinji and Kamio, who were behind them, were sticking close together as well. 'Just in case we all get separated', they said. And it was a good idea. So everyone started picking partners. Oishi was already hyperventilating with worry, and was crying in anguish why they didn't think of applying for international roaming on their phones. They were functional, sure, but they couldn't call. Taka-san was frantically looking around for any clues, while Choutarou and Shishido were following Oshitari obediently, but were saying nothing. Tachibana was trying to figure out a way to get back with Inui and Renji and Oshitari helping him. It was supposedly just a trip to the souvenir stores and the fast food booths, after all, not a game of Hide-and-Seek.

The youngest of their group, however, seemed completely worry-free. Toushi was immersed in his iPod, while curiously looking over the souvenir stuff on display in the airport shops.

Just then, an airport official came towards them. "_**Can I help you with anything?**_"

Silence.

Inui and Renji both stood scrambling for words. It seems they momentarily forgot their English.

"_**Can you perhaps point us to Gate A-8?**_" came a voice behind from one side, speaking in smooth, seamless English. Toushi was holding a paper bag that had the logo of Detroit International Airport in one hand, while holding his boarding pass in another. "_**We got lost.**_"

"_**I see. Well, Concourse A is right this way, sir,**_" nodded the airport official, leading the way. The group followed obediently, relieved that there was someone to direct them where to go.

"Oi, Toushi," nudged Eiji. "Where did you learn how to speak English, eih?"

Toushi remained silent, simply following the airport official as they weaved in and out of the crowd. He didn't want to get lost, so he paid close attention to where the airport official was going. He also didn't feel the responsibility to tell them where he learned how to speak the international language, so he simply opted for the easy way—by not answering at all.

But as usual, the others weren't having that.

"Sou da, sou da!" nodded Momoshiro. "I didn't know you were fluent!"

"Ara? So they didn't notice it?" Choutarou muttered to Shishido, who shrugged. Unfortunately for them, Eiji chose that day to be extremely perceptive with his hearing.

"Nanda, nanda?" Eiji bounced, leaning over to Choutarou. "Were you saying something, Chou-chin?"

"E-Eto…" the ever-shy Choutarou fumbled, regaining countenance only as Shishido casually slung an arm around his shoulders like a brother or a friend might do. Homosexuality, after all, wasn't very welcomed in society. "…it's just that we noticed that Toushi-kun didn't look like he was pure Japanese. So I thought maybe he was half and half of some other heritage…"

"Eeeh?" Eiji, Gakuto, and Momoshiro all leaned in carefully towards Toushi, examining his features. Toushi twitched.

"Sou da na, he's too…" Momoshiro started.

"…pretty," finished Eiji and Gakuto at the same time, before glaring at each other ferociously.

Toushi sighed, before acidly replying, "Just let it go. It doesn't matter anyways. What if I'm just naturally better at English? And I had a good teacher at my previous school. So just let it go, will you? It's not that big of a thing anyways."

Eiji pouted and was about to retort, when the airport official turned and faced them. "_**It's this way, sir,**_" he directed, motioning towards the hallway that was filled and teeming with people from all over the world. "_**Just follow the signs over the gates. A-8 is further down the end part of this wing, so you'll have to walk further a bit.**_"

"_**Thank you,**_" nodded Toushi, leading the way as he walked past the airport official, who was smiling at them good-naturedly. He scanned the signs over the gates, reading D-8, D-7, D-6… it seemed that the A gates were indeed at the end part of the wing. "This way, guys."

And he walked briskly, keeping the others at a distance behind him to avoid more questions. _I don't want to go where that discussion will take us._

* * *

"_**Joy, joy, joy**_!"

Golden catlike eyes rolled skywards as a sugar-high Kevin Smith pranced and whirled around in wide arcing pirouettes, his arms thrown out to balance himself as he tipped and swayed in dizziness. Ryoma had to admit that they made quite a sight. A group of—good-looking—Japanese tennis players huddled around in one section of the waiting area near gate A-8 was not a common sight after all. There was just too plenty players around that they called attention. They were more than thirty, after all.

Of course, they could've just taken a direct flight to Florida from Tokyo using one of the Atobe family's private high-capacity jets, but ITF wanted them to take the other longer, more tedious route. So they had to take ITF's private jet from Narita International, stop over at San Francisco International to transfer, then stop over at Detroit for three hours to transfer again. It was tedious, and it took a great deal of time, but it was what their hosts wanted them to do.

But apparently, Kevin had enjoyed the trip. Someone—and that someone was definitely absolutely indubitably insane—gave him a whole huge bulging bag of assorted sweets to bring on the plane. Of course, sweets weren't banned on planes, even though planes going to the US had a very strict policy on security. So there Kevin went, gobbling up the entire contents of the whole bag—which was about the size of an average hiking backpack—in less than nine hours (which was the duration of their trip, since they took a faster route over the Pacific; more expensive, though).

Which led to what Kevin was right now.

"Whoever gave him that bag of sweets can die now," grumbled Shinichi, whose bag was kicked by the dizzy Kevin on another pirouette.

"_**Kevin, sit your ass down,**_" a haughty tone in prim, straight English that was devoid of any telltale Japanese accent snapped at the blonde. Said blonde huffed, crossed his arms, and unceremoniously plopped down on one of those much-hated, backache-inducing seats. Beside the disgruntled and moody blonde (moody because one moment he was agreeable and another he was not), a smirking Atobe Keigo flipped his hair from his eyes. "_**You're making too much of a commotion to be worthy of my ever-astounding, ever-breathtaking presence. If you want to remain within the span of a hundred feet of my presence, you will have to behave yourself like how people do in the alta-ciudad.**_"

Ryoma, who was on a seat across Keigo and nestled comfortably between Tezuka and Fuji, snorted. "You'd think that now that we're in the US, he'll stop the 'ore-sama' comments, but I can see that we'll still have to suffer through that even now," he sniffed, shaking his black head. "Damn whoever taught him to translate those 'ore-sama' comments of his into English."

A chuckle came from the sedate, smiling tensai beside Ryoma. Fuji reached over with his free hand—his one arm was being used by Ryoma as a cushion slash pillow—and twirled a lock of Ryoma's green-tinged straight black hair. He always found that green tinge very intriguing. The cap was for once off the teen's head, and was resting on top of Karupin's cage, which was on Fuji's other side. The said cat was fast asleep. "He'll never change, Ryoma-chan. He'll always be the monkey we know and love. You, of all people, should know that the best," hummed Fuji, placing a soft kiss on top of Ryoma's head. It would seem simply brotherly to other people, but the other players around them knew that it was nowhere near brotherly.

"Where are they? They've been gone for over an hour now…" voiced the worried Seigaku captain on the other side of the Wimbledon Champion, eyeing the fast-paced, ever-changing, ever-moving crowd. Apparently, the bespectacled player hadn't been paying attention to Keigo's little episode. "They aren't lost, are they? I sincerely hope _not_."

Ryoma snorted yet again. "I share your sentiments, buchou, but if we were to think logically and piece together facts from previous experiences, we'd come to the very much likely conclusion that they are _indeed_ lost."

"I don't like the sound of that," Tezuka deadpanned.

"Neither do I, Kuni-bu, but facts are facts, and facts are meant to be faced."

Fuji paused his twirling of Ryoma's hair, a smile slowly growing on his face. "Did you just call him Kuni-bu again, Ryoma-chan?" asked Fuji, not able to resist the urge to torture the poor teen. Ryoma blushed beet red to the root of his hair, mumbling something incoherent as he ducked his head down and fiddled with the fabric of his khaki-colored baggy pants. For once, he wasn't wearing those tennis shorts of his. Instead, he was clad in a very comfortable sleeveless white shirt, a black jacket over it, and those baggy pants he loved so much.

Tezuka simply sent Ryoma a small smile, while Fuji resumed his 'hair-fiddling', as he liked to call it. "Do they even know how to speak English?" voiced Fuji, steering the conversation back to the original topic.

"I honestly have no idea," said a similarly sedate-looking Kirihara beside a stone-faced Sanada. A lightly snoozing Yukimura was leaning against Sanada as well, but the Rikkaidai Emperor seemed not to mind. "They have Oshitari-san, Yanagi-senpai, and Inui-san with them, so it should be alright, ne? They'll have someone with some semblance of self-control, self-preservation, dignity, and brains. Tachibana-san is with them too."

"Oshitari-san and Inui-senpai and Yanagi-san? Together?" snorted Ryoma. "I doubt they present good examples for self-control, self-preservation, and dignity. Tachibana-san passes with flying colors, but those three? Nah."

"Pitiful people," Keigo sniffed, examining his nails. "I do not want to be in their shoes right now."

"They'll survive," Kevin shrugged, chuckling. "It's a good addition to their 'Firsts' list. _Our First Day in the United States of America as Junior Pro Tennis Players Spent Lost Inside the Confusing Maze They Call Detroit International Airport._"

"…that's too long, Kev," Ryoma pointed out blandly. "And it's not Detroit International, it's Detroit Metropolitan! Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport! 'Taku, for someone who grew up here, you know quite a lot, na…"

"So?" shrugged Kevin. "It doesn't matter!"

Just then, their second supposedly missing group led by Toushi and Tachibana filed in, squeezing their way through the crowd.

"Minna! We brought food!" rang Eiji's voice as he held up the two big bags of food he was carrying. The others were carrying bags of food as well, except for Toushi, who was carrying his souvenir bag. Their arrival scattered the crowds, and soon enough, the whole commotion dissipated as fast as it came (though several girls—and a few boys—were still ogling openly at them). Ryoma stomped back up to the chair he'd been occupying before he was accosted by the 'rabid fans', grumbling under his breath, crossing his arms, and pouting childishly.

"Ryoma-chan, you'll get wrinkles if you scrunch up your face like that," pointed out Fuji as he smoothed out Ryoma's crumpled forehead and brows with a long, nimble finger that looked as if it was never stressed with the intense tennis work-out they did.

"Is that why you always smile, Fujiko? So you won't get wrinkles?' Eiji curiously asked as he sank into one of the chairs near where his bag was.

Fuji simply chuckled, but did not reply. Tezuka was already sighing and kneading his forehead as Oishi and Inui told him of what had happened and how they got lost. Apparently, Eiji went into overdrive and started dragging them everywhere at the sight of souvenirs and shops. It had even gotten worse when Eiji saw fluffy stuffed items in one shop, and had refused to go out until Oishi bought him one of the toys, according to Inui.

"Poor Tezuka," chuckled Yukimura. "I can't imagine how much of a headache he's experiencing right now."

The Rikkaidai captain was woken by the said earlier commotion, and was now cradling a snuggling Kirihara while Sanada handled 'business' with Renji and Marui and Jackal, who were the only ones on their team that went missing. Keigo was ranting his 'you've degraded ore-sama's team as representatives' rant on Oshitari, Gakuto, Choutarou, and Shishido's bleeding ears. But out of all of them, Ryoma pitied Toushi the most.

The white-haired Fudou player was being lashed at by Kevin's sharp tongue. Thankfully, he was tactful enough not to answer. The last person who Kevin lashed out at like that for a scolding didn't have tact—there guesses on who the unfortunate pet was—and as such, it had erupted into a full-blown whiplash from Kevin that in the end had the unfortunate recipient crawling back to his father.

* * *

"Now where?" questioned Eiji as they deplaned. He was standing by the wall beside Oishi, waiting for all of them to gather around and for Nanjiroh's signal to go. They've just arrived at Miami International, and they were dead tired. It didn't help that some of them were still sporting mild hangovers from earlier when Kirihara and Niou had spiked the soda supply on Keigo's jet.

"We'll have to get our baggages, I suppose," Oishi remarked. "If this is like our airports back home, then there should be baggage reclaim areas nearby for the arriving passengers."

"There is," Ryoma yawned, clutching Karupin's pet cage in one arm and his duffel bag in another. His tennis bag was slung on him as it should be. He nudged his head towards the west corridor. "It's that way."

"Ryoma-chan seems to know this airport very well, ne," Fuji remarked as he walked up behind Ryoma, settling his bag on his feet for a while and ruffling Ryoma's black hair. "You must pass through here very often, then."

"I do," shrugged Ryoma, before yawning again and leaning against Fuji. "'M sleepy, Syuu-chan."

Fuji gently petted Ryoma, placing a soft kiss on the teen's forehead. "We'll be there soon."

"Yosh, yosh, are we all here?!" called Nanjiroh, walking around and checking to see if everyone was present. It would be such a big trouble if someone would go missing in the middle of a foreign airport, in the middle of a foreign country. "Are we?"

A chorus of "hai" and "uisu" reached Nanjiroh's ears, and he nodded. "Good," he said, adjusting the shades on top of his head (a precaution against fans and public places). For once, he was not wearing his monk outfit. Instead, he was wearing a shirt underneath a polo shirt, khaki shorts and rubber shoes. "Now we'll go and retrieve the baggage. You have to get your own baggage from the conveyor belt, since I don't know which are yours. Help each other out. It'll be easy enough, since your bags are tagged—you _did_ tag them before we left, didn't you?—so it shouldn't take long. After that, we're meeting the people sent to retrieve us."

Another chorus of "hai" and "uisu" echoed around Nanjiroh.

"Ou! Let's go."

As it turns out, they _did_ take a remarkably short time retrieving their baggage. As soon as they were all set, they walked out to the lobby area, where they would be meeting with their correspondents. There were people lined up at the arrival exits, holding up banners and messages for whoever they were welcoming back.

"Ooooooh-kay," Nanjiroh sighed, dropping his bag and craning his neck to see the banners. "People, help me—"

"There it is!" Eiji grinned, pointing at one fairly large banner. "It says ITF Japan!"

"Well done, neko-chan!" Nanjiroh whistled. "That's one whopping good eyesight you have there. We have to exploit that."

Eiji simply grinned, and they followed Nanjiroh out of the building and towards the area where the banner was. Their group was attracting stares, which, while being natural (it was not everyday when a group of thirty or so tennis players traipsed down the airport arrival lobby), was definitely unnerving. It wasn't that they weren't used to the eyes; no, they were more than used to it. It was just the impact of being in a different country that was unnerving them.

"_**Kevin! Ryoma!**_" called several voices from the area where the banner was.

"What's that? Fans again? No more fans!" whined Ryoga.

"Baka. It's our 'correspondents'," snorted Ryoma. "Kevin, am I just mistaken, or was that the twins I heard?"

"It's the twins alright," chuckled Kevin. "They sent them after all."

"Are? What are you talking about?" Momoshiro questioned. "Do you know the ones who are going to fetch us?"

"You'll see," Ryoma dismissed as they pushed through the crowd.

As they got nearer and nearer, the others could see two twin brunets holding the banner up and waving it like the end of the world was approaching. There was another guy who had sandy light brown hair, and he was talking to someone on the phone while keeping his distance from the twins. Another guy with very light platinum blond hair—Eiji was tempted to think that the soft platinum spikes _glowed_ under the moon—had his arm around another person who _looked_ like a girl—what with the long brown-streaked blond hair—but was evidently a boy. The last and tallest of the lost was a built player who had brown-streaked black hair, and he was trying—in vain, apparently—to curb the brunet twins.

"Who're they?" questioned Eiji.

But instead of answering, Kevin simply grinned and bounded forward. "_**Rick, Ed!**_"

"_**Keeeeeeeeeeeeevin! Ryooooooooooooma!**_" yelled the twins simultaneously, running forward and attempting to engulf the two said Seigaku players. Ryoma managed to dodge quickly- back into Fuji's always open arms, but Kevin stumbled and was caught in the onslaught. "_**We missed you!!**_"

"_**Ed—Rick—can't—eathe—t—go!**_" Kevin struggled, his voice muffled under the confusion of arms and bodies. _**"M—woun—urts!**_"

"_**Hey, wait, wait, let him go!**_" Toushi immediately fretted, frantically removing the twins' arms from around Kevin forcefully and startling them into silence. Paying them no heed, Toushi immediately fussed over Kevin, checking the shoulder wound which Kevin was clutching in pain. Kevin winced as Toushi removed his hand from his shoulder and peered at the wound. "_**It's not bleeding. Good.**_"

"_**Who are you?**_"

"_**Why does Kevin have a wound?**_"

"_**Are you—**_"

"—_**Kevin's boyfriend?**_"

Toushi stumbled at the last question, earning a snicker from Ryoma, who was still hiding within Fuji's protective embrace.

"_**Yeah, he's Kevin's new boyfriend**_," nodded Ryoma fervently. "_**They got together a few days ago. So you guys respect him, 'kay? 'Coz he's overprotective**_."

"_**What—wait—no—Ryoma—**_"

"_**Ooooh, Kevin has—**_"

"—_**a boyfriend!**_"

"Nya, do they always complete each other's sentences, nya?" Eiji asked curiously. "It's confusing, nya."

"They always do that. You get used to it after a while," shrugged Nanjiroh, who was behind them. "Saa, saa, we can continue this conversation inside the bus, boys. Come on, let's go. I think it's going to rain, we don't want to get caught in it," the coach ushered them, before switching to English. "_**Rick, Ed, you can continue grilling Kevin and Toushi on the bus. Come on, we need to get going. Scott, I trust everything's been prepared?**_"

The guy with the light brown sandy hair who had been talking on the phone nodded. "_**We've dropped by and checked the Atobe manor earlier. We've also talked to ITF. They said they'll be meeting you guys tomorrow.**_"

"_**I heard that you were joining as well, Scott**_," remarked Ryoma. Scott nodded blankly. There was a noticeable coldness with how Scott and Ryoma traded words, and it piqued the interests of the people who were more perceptive than normal. "_**We need to talk about the line-ups then, since I'll be with Seigaku.**_"

"_**We can deal with that tomorrow**_," the tallest, eldest guy in the group remarked as they made their way through the parking building and to where their bus was. This guy had brown-streaked black hair and startling bright green eyes holding wisdom and calmness—a surprisingly rare trait for someone their age. "_**For now, you guys need to rest.**_"

Kevin sighed loudly beside Toushi. "_**I swear, Leigh, you can get worse than our resident worrywart Oishi-senpai.**_"

"_**Huh?**_" the guy called Leigh voiced, turning to Kevin, who just chuckled and waved him off in dismissal.

"Neeee, Nan-chan-sei…" Eiji whined, reverting to his little pet name for Nanjiroh. "Will it take long before we get to where we're staying? I'm slee—py…" he remarked, cutting his last word with a huge yawn.

"We should be there in less than thirty minutes. It's not too far, and there's less traffic since it's pretty late already," remarked the coach as they reached the bus. "Right. Are we all here?" he called over the crowd of players, doing a quick headcount. "Yosh, everyone in!"

One by one they scampered into the bus, taking their seats and settling in quickly. All of them wanted to get the travel over with and eat some real food then rest. Soon enough, they were all settled in, and the bus was moving out of the parking lot.

"_**Soooo! Kevin, what's your boyfriend's name?**_" asked the guy who looked like a girl with his the long brown-streaked blonde hair.

Just when Kevin started spluttering as Toushi blushed like mad, Nanjiroh spoke up. "_**Before you start going grilling Kevin over that, why don't you introduce yourselves first? Or at least, let Ryoma introduce you first**_," he said, before turning and nudging Ryoma, who was sitting across him between Fuji and Tezuka. "Hora, Ryoma, introduce them."

Ryoma groaned. "Why me?" he whined. "Kevin can do it!"

"_**Ryoma, stop being a baby and introduce them**_!" Kevin reprimanded.

"_**That's right, Ryoma, you should go ahead and introduce them**_," Keigo followed.

Ryoma just whined louder, snuggling closer to Fuji.

"_**Sorry about this. Ryoma's still a bit moody. He gets like this when he's tired and sleepy**_," Fuji apologized as he proceeded petting Ryoma again to calm the cat—err, teen.

"_**Hey, they can speak English after all!**_" remarked one of the twins—Rick or Ed, no one knew which one.

"_**All of us can speak English, but only a few are really fluent**_," explained Tezuka. Having been to Germany one time, he had been exposed to multiple languages, and he had been forced to use English _and_ German during his stay there, thus explaining his fluency.

"_**Ohhh**_," the twins voiced at the same time.

"_**Fine, I'll introduce them**_," sighed Kevin as he stopped prodding at a whining Ryoma, hesitant to poke more for fear of inducing a full-blown tantrum. Those things weren't really pretty coming from Ryoma. He turned towards the rest of the guys and stood up, clapping his hands to get the others' attentions. "Minna-san, please pay attention!"

As soon as everyone's attention was trailed on him, he started.

"This guy… erm, girl… uhh, guy…" Kevin stumbled, as if trying to decide whether he should introduce the person as a girl or as a guy. "Eh, this one over here who looks like a girl and has long blond hair is Elliot."

Elliot leaned over his seat and smiled a brilliant Fuji-ish smile that made half of the population inside the bus swoon (there were certain people who were immune already after over-exposure to Yukimura and Fuji). "_**Bon**__**soir**__**. I'm Elliot Deveraux.**_"

"_**Don't even try that smile of yours, Elli, because it won't work. Half of them are immune already**_," snorted Nanjiroh.

"And then the guy beside Elliot who has platinum blond hair is Laurent Devienne, Elliot's boyfriend," Kevin explained. Laurent simply waved his hand over the seats, before settling back down. "The twins are Eduard and Erick Davis-Liu."

"_**Yo! We're Eduard and Erick, but you can call us Edrick if you're not sure**_," the twins chimed in perfect harmony."_**And yes, we're half-Chinese! Everyone asks that. I mean, duh, isn't it obvious by the names? But people are stupid anyways. So we don't mind. Anyways—**_"

"_**Ed, Rick, sit your asses down**_," snapped Kevin. "_**And shut your traps while you're at it.**_"

The twins pouted, but conceded.

"Anyways, as they said, just call both of them Edrick if you're not sure who's who. So, continuing… the tall guy over there with green eyes is Raleigh, Leigh for short."

"_**Howdy. Raleigh Poston at your service**_," the soft voice floated over their heads.

"And then the last guy over here," Kevin motioned beside him where the sandy-haired guy sat. "He's Scott Freidmunt."

"_**Scott Freidmunt. Pleasure**_," he grunted, though it seemed that it was hardly a _pleasure_ for him to meet the crowd.

"And then there's me and Ryoma. And the eight of us make the original Team USA," concluded Kevin.

Silence.

"TEAM USA?!" exclaimed Eiji. "B-B-But—"

"—aren't you with us?!" Momoshiro followed.

"That, Momo-senpai…" Ryoma yawned from his spot, preening under the excessive attention paid to him by Fuji, who seemed to be enjoying the newly returned privilege of spoiling him again. "…is exactly why we need to discuss how to redo the line-ups for them. It's either Kevin won't be involved in the selections for Team Japan, or they'll have to get someone from the outside."

Kevin pouted, crossing his arms. "Oi, Ryoma, you're unfair, you know that? _You're_ the captain of this team."

Ryoma simply grinned, ignoring the shouts of shock around him at the fact that he was the captain of Team USA. "Aww, come on, Kev. You know this is my only chance to be with my old team again."

"That's pretty irresponsible, you know," remarked an accented voice from beside Kevin. Scott snapped his mobile phone close. "For a captain, that is."

"Oh, here we go again," muttered Kevin under his breath, rolling his eyes. Rick and Ed simultaneously released long suffering sighs, shrugging their shoulders, while Raleigh dropped his forehead into his palms in an overly Oishi-ish way.

Without letting the others express their shock at Scott being able to speak Japanese, Ryoma immediately retorted. "Didn't you want a chance to be the captain, Scott? Well, here it is. I'm going to be away—why complain?"

"That's called using others to make an excuse," Scott shot back.

Ryoma opened his mouth to throw an even more scathing retort, but Tezuka jumped into the conversation before it turned into a full-blown argument.

"I understand that Ryoma is the captain of your team, but surely there is a vice-captain?" Tezuka pointed out. "Ryoma, unlike Kevin, is currently fully enrolled under Seigaku, and he was called upon by the ITF as a player for Seigaku, not for Team USA. Surely it stands within reason that Ryoma should stay with us."

"And besides, Scott, won't this give you an opportunity to go neck and neck against Ryoma seriously without complications or consequences?" pointed out Keigo from his seat. Apparently, the Atobe heir had already met Scott before with the level of familiarity he was addressing the teen. "Don't waste it."

"Oh, you've met before?" inquired Kevin.

"We have, just once," affirmed Keigo. "And I'm not surprised to see him here either. I did hear that he was a member of Ryoma's team here."

"Hah!" exclaimed Ryoma. "I knew it. Saru-sama just loves me so much that he even stalks me!"

"Ore-sama is _not_ a stalker!" Keigo indignantly sniffed. "Ore-sama will never stoop to such lowly acts no matter what the situation may be!"

"Saa, Atobe, don't you think it's far too late for denials?" Fuji inputted, his smile solidly in place as he continued petting the purring Ryoma. Ryoma shifted under his hands and snuggled against his chest. "From what I've heard, you placed cameras inside Ryoma's room and even caught some particularly… _distracting_… scenes, ones that you shouldn't even be privileged enough to see."

Keigo spluttered at this as the others in the back yelled in indignation.

"ATOBE!" screeched Eiji. "Does this mean you've been bugging our rooms as well?!"

"You can't do that, no, you can't!" Momoshiro yelled.

"Fsssshhhh, it's violation of privacy, fssssshhh!!!" Kaidoh hissed aggressively.

Oshitari sighed, shaking his head. "Keigo, you have _got_ to start putting a leash at your voyeurism escapades."

"Neee, do you think he caught what we did a couple of nights ago, Yuushi?" Gakuto asked curiously. "I wonder if he has tapes. I want to get tapes."

"G-Gakuto-san! I didn't know you were…" Choutarou began, before running out of words in the middle of his sentence.

Hiyoshi snorted beside Gakuto, mumbling under his breath, "Well of _course_ you don't know. No normal person would go flaunting those details…"

"Ii data," nodded Inui, scribbling quickly. Beside him, Renji was typing madly into his laptop.

Up front, Sanada sighed as he dipped his head low, thanking the gods above for Yukimura's quick thinking. The Rikkaidai captain—who was, needless to say, currently enjoying himself upon the suffering of the others—had thought of the possibility of their room being bugged, and as such, he swept the room with keen eyes one night and removed all the hidden cameras—not caring whether they were security cameras or bug cameras—inside their North Wing suite. It would have been a disaster had he not done that, after all.

* * *

"Señor Sanchez," called a gruff voice from a bulky black-clad man in the shadows. "I have news."

"Make it quick," grunted the mid-aged man sitting by his desk and leafing through several important-looking documents. "I don't have time to listen to petty pleasantries."

"Now, now, Jose, that's not a nice way to talk to your subordinates, is it?" hummed a woman's voice from the sofa nearby.

"I'm not talking to you, Dahlia, now shut up," snapped Jose Sanchez from his desk. "Back to your news, boy."

The bulky man seemed to bristle at being called 'boy', but knew better than to talk back. Instead, he delivered his purpose for being there. "They've arrived an hour ago, and I've received news that they're staying in the Atobe manor."

At this, Sanchez' hand paused its scribbling, and a puff of smoke was released from his tobacco-laden mouth.

"We're not yet sure if he's staying with them there, señor. He might go to the house and stay there instead."

There was a heavy silence blanketing the darkened office room illuminated only by the scant lighting provided by the reading lamp by Sanchez' desk and the night lights of downtown Miami below them filtering through the curtained wall windows.

"…gracias, Enrique. You may return to the gambling houses. That's it for tonight."

* * *

"Ku-rass."

"Class."

"Ku-rass."

"Class!"

"Crass!"

"Eiji-senpai, it's not 'r'! Not 'crass'!" exclaimed an exasperated Ryoma. "C_l_ass! Not c_r_ass!"

Eiji whined, stomping his foot as he stood out by the Atobe manor garden's gates with Ryoma and their teammates. They were waiting for the other teams to come so they could start their mini-tour. They were waken up—and quite rudely at that—by Nanjiroh (who used the traditional clanging-pots-and-pans-by-their-ears way) at an ungodly hour this morning, and they were nowhere near ready to face another day after a measly seven hours of sleep on foreign beds.

"I suggest you stop insisting in teaching him English before you start pulling out your hair in frustration," Inui quipped, pushing his glasses up in what he hoped was a 'cool' manner. "There's only a mere 30 percent chance of him getting it right, after all."

Ryoma groaned and threw his hands up in surrender, before turning to Fuji and snuggling against the tensai. Fuji was, after all, more open to the idea of public displays of affection. Tezuka had a reputation to maintain, and that reputation included the strong, stoic buchou. Ryoma knew very well that he was one of the very few select people who managed to break Tezuka's stoic nature single-handedly, a feat he was certainly very proud of. However, he was also proud of the strong figure his buchou presented in front of other people, that strong, imposing figure that managed to awe most new acquaintances and gain the respect of others so easily it was unreal. And because of that, he also wanted his buchou to retain that figure of authority and leadership in front of other people.

Besides, he could make up for all the lack of public affection in private in more ways than one.

"Ne, Yukimura-buchou," called Marui from his spot.

"Hmm?"

"When will be the selections for Team Japan?" Marui asked curiously.

"Saa. Nanjiroh-sensei has not disclosed any information yet," Yukimura shrugged. For once, he was not petting Kirihara or sleeping on Sanada. No, today, he was Yukimura the Captain of the Champions again. Reputations were important, and all of them were supposed to be in their best forms when they were introduced to the foreign players.

"I gather he's still negotiating about our schedules," Tachibana inputted. "We have lots to do, after all, and it's not like we can ignore basic training. It'll be a bit troublesome managing the schedules for us."

"Poor Nan-ji-chan. I can't bring myself to imagine how much of a headache he's enduring right now," sighed Keigo, flipping his hair back.

The sound of a ball hitting a racket caught their attention, and Keigo just had enough time to dodge a ball soaring through the gardens and prevent it from hitting him smack in the face. The ball squarely hit a very ripe orange, and said fruit fell down along with the ball, to be caught by Eiji who looked at the two round things in his hands dubiously. "Ara?"

"My orange!" Ryoga exclaimed, grabbing the orange—but not the ball—from Eiji, and eagerly peeling off the thick skin before biting into it. "Mmm… best oranges in the world!"

"…they're edible?" Eiji voiced.

Ryoma stared at him like he sprouted two heads. "Of _course_ they are, Kikumaru-senpai!" snorted Ryoma with a disbelieving expression. "Oranges are not really decorative trees, you know…"

"How nostalgic. I still remember when chibisuke couldn't get his orange from the tree using his racket and his ball, so he just climbed up the tree—but he _still_ couldn't get the orange!" laughed Ryoga.

Ryoma snarled and grabbed the ball from Eiji, chucking it sharply at Ryoga, who caught it smack in the forehead. "That's payback for the ball that hit me in the forehead, baka!"

"Awwww, that's so sweet, my sons are getting along again!" came Nanjiroh's sing-song voice. Ryoga grinned and nodded vigorously, muttering 'sou, sou', while Ryoma snarled and hissed and frothed at his father, rebuking the 'getting along' comment as fervently as an offended harpy. "Anyways, gather round, people. We're going to be postponing the tour for tomorrow."

At this, a mixture of loud groans, whines, and complaints floated over the crowd.

"Ahh, come off it. Tomorrow will come very quickly, you'll see," Nanjiroh dismissed, waving a hand in abandon, before adjusting the sunshades on top of his head. "Today will be selections day."

"…selections day?" voiced Shishido. "You mean we're going to start selections for Team Japan."

"Sou," nodded Nanjiroh. The elder coach stopped right in front of the crowd of tennis players, gathering them around and asking them to sit on the grass as he started speaking. "Saa, here's how it will work: each team will be divided up into blocks of either two or three. Then matches would commence within each block, and whoever wins their blocks move to the final eliminations. The ones who join the finals will then be divided again into blocks, and then matches will commence again. Simple enough, hmm?"

Nods of understanding answered his question.

"Good," Nanjiroh said. "Scott and the others are waiting by the courts set up in the backyard right now; they'll be helping with the refereeing stuff and whatnots. Here's the chart containing the block divisions, then. Take a look and see where you fit."

Nanjiroh rolled out a big poster and held it up for them to see.

"Nani, nani…" Eiji craned his neck to get a view over Ryoma's head. It read:

**SEIGAKU  
A:** Eiji, Oishi, Ryoma  
**B:** Momoshiro, Kaidoh, Tezuka  
**C:** Inui, Fuji, Taka

**RIKKAIDAI  
A: **Sanada, Yukimura  
**B:** Kirihara, Renji  
**C:** Buntal, Jackal  
**D:** Yagyuu, Niou

**HYOTEI  
A:** Keigo, Kabaji  
**B:** Yuushi, Gakuto  
**C:** Hiyoshi, Choutarou  
**D:** Shishido, Jirou

"Huh? Why is Fudou missing?" asked Jirou, rubbing the hand that was swatted away by Keigo when he started rubbing his itching eyes.

"Asuka, as you know, is down with the chicken pox. Shinichi is not qualified to play for Team Japan, since apparently, he's a French citizen—"

"SHIN'S A FRENCH CITIZEN?!" exclaimed Eiji. Shinichi, who was tucked away under one tree, crossed his arms and simply looked away from the searching gazes.

"Yes, he is. Toushi refused to join since Kevin is playing for Team USA—"

"KEVIN'S PLAYING FOR TEAM USA?!" roared Eiji again.

"_Yes, he is_. Kamio and Shinji are both viable, and they were supposed to do a round robin with Tachibana, but the two decided that Tachibana would still win since they're skills aren't on par with their captain yet, so Tachibana's automatically a win. He'll automatically advance to the final elimination," explained Nanjiroh. "I'll explain how the final eliminations will go later; for now, we need to start with the matches if we want to finish this within today."

"Nanda, I'm sure it'll take me less than ten minutes to conclude my win," snorted Ryoma, sauntering off ahead of them and walking the very familiar dirt paths of the Florida Atobe Manor towards the backyard he knew like the back of his hand.

After a moment's silence during which the crowd processed what Ryoma just said (well, the _slower_ parts of the crowd, anyways), Eiji hissed aggressively and started 'fluffing up', as Momoshiro described it, like a hissing, angry cat. Hackles and rackets raised, Eiji served a ball towards Ryoma.

"O-tto," Ryoma mumbled, catching the ball with the back of his racket and negating the spin easily. He smirked over his shoulder to where Eiji was frothing at him. "Eiji-senpai, if you're so eager to start this, then why don't we already move this to the courts?"

"BRING IT ON, OCHIBI!" yelled Eiji, flailing his arms about. "I WON'T LOSE TO YOU!"

Ryoma's smirk simply widened, before he crossed his arms behind his head and disappeared around the hedge as he rounded the corner of the dirt path leading to the backyard. Behind him, Eiji hissed in annoyance, stomping his foot in anger. "How dare that ochibi! He's so annoying!"

"Eiji…" Oishi sighed in hopelessness.

"But-but-but-but! Nanjiroh-sensei, why am I and Oishi in the same block? Why did you place us in the same block?!" whined Eiji, stomping his feet repetitively.

"Sou da, Nanjiroh-sensei, why are they in the same block?" asked Shishido. "They're probably the strongest pair in here alongside me and Choutarou. It makes no sense to not include them for Team Japan."

"Saa, if this continues according to what I've planned, we'll come up with the perfect team," assured Nanjiroh.

Fuji smiled his trademark smile. "It'll be interesting, how this will go," he remarked, apparently already having figured out how everything would end up if things went smoothly. "Yukimura-kun, I'll look forward to working with you on Team Japan, ne."

"Of course, Fuji-kun," Yukimura smiled right back, the two smiles mirroring each other so perfectly that it sent shivers crawling down the crowd's spine.

With that, Fuji turned his back on them and walked down the same path Ryoma walked, humming a happy tune. Tezuka shortly followed Fuji without any further comment. Behind them, Momoshiro whistled. "As expected from Fuji-senpai. He already declares himself on Team Japan."

"There is a solid 97 percent possibility that Fuji indeed _will_ be one of those in Team Japan," Inui announced out of the blue. "I have enough proof that Fuji has more new counters he developed under his sleeves. If he uses these, there is no doubt that the chance of his win almost doubles."

"Ne, Inui, you _do_ realize that you're one of his opponents, don't you?" Nanjiroh pointed out.

"Of course," Inui nodded, pushing his glasses up higher the bridge of his nose.

Nanjiroh raised an eyebrow at the nonchalant behavior, but shrugged it off. "Well, then, let's move it, move it!" he motioned, ushering the crowd towards the backyard where Tezuka, Fuji, and Ryoma had already disappeared off to.

* * *

**10 minutes after the beginning…**

"Ryoma of Seigaku Block A, with 2 wins and 0 losses, advances to the finals!"

Ryoma yawned and scratched his nose, stretching his back as he walked over to the benches where Toushi, Kevin, and Shinichi were all waiting.

"Nice game as usual, Ryoma," Kevin chimed, chucking a towel and a bottle of water at the raven-haired teen, who caught them deftly and nodded his thanks. "Though you could have gone lighter on Eiji-senpai and Oishi-senpai."

"Nah, I'm too lazy today," yawned Ryoma, immediately plunking himself down on the bench. "Besides, I wanna reserve my strength for the later matches. Surely Kuni-bu and Syuu-chan will be in. Keigo will be in too, for sure. Yukimura and Sanada, whoever wins between the two of them, it'll be an interesting match if ever I get to be paired with either."

"Hmmm..." Kevin nodded. But before the blonde could comment further, Oishi moved forward, dragging with him a sulking Eiji.

"Nice game, Echizen. You really haven't faded a single bit. Do us proud on Team Japan. We're counting on you," Oishi smiled.

Ryoma grinned right back. "Uisu."

"And also, Eiji has something to say," Oishi continued, tugging on his sulking partner's wrist. "Eiji!"

"A-A-Ano… I'm sorry for that ball earlier, ochibi," Eiji sighed depressedly. "Mou, you're so unfair! I wanted to play on Team Japan too!"

"But I thought you didn't want to play without Oishi-senpai?" pointed out Ryoma. "If you did win over me, you would still have to fight Oishi-senpai, and only one of you would go on to Team Japan, right?"

Eiji pouted. "I know that, but still…" whined the redhead. "Why did Nanjiroh-sensei put us in the same block anyways?!"

"Don't ask me how that lecher's mind works, senpai," Ryoma immediately automatically answered grumpily, receiving similarly amused chuckles from Kevin and Toushi.

"Oishi-san, watch out!!" yelled Shinichi, who had been standing against the fence. Oishi whirled around and managed to block the incoming ball from the court adjacent to them, deflecting the offending item in a staggered manner.

"What the—OI, CAREFUL WITH THE BALLS!" hollered Eiji, rushing to his partner. "Oishi, daijoubu?"

"Aa, I'm alright," nodded Oishi. "I blocked it, thanks to Shinichi. Arigato na."

Shinichi simply settled back against the fence and waved it off. "They're being too energetic over this," he sighed, motioning towards where Kaidoh and Momoshiro were facing off for Seigaku's Block B. "If they keep this up, they'll burn themselves out before they even get to their next matches."

"Well, it'd be weird if they're not overly energetic," snorted Ryoma, his eyes following the rally that was taking place. The current score was an even 3-3.

"They're doing quite good, aren't they?" chuckled Oishi.

"Not good enough to beat Kuni-bu," snorted Ryoma, downing the rest of his water bottle in one go. "No one's good enough to beat Kuni-bu but me."

"Yeah, yeah, we hear you," waved off Kevin dismissively, already used to the 'no-one-else-is-allowed-to-paw-my-buchou-but-me' attitude.

Ryoma simply sniffed haughtily, a near-enough impersonation of Keigo, before turning his eyes back to the match that was raging on.

Momoshiro shot a bait ball, attempting to lure Kaidoh into giving a chance ball, but Kaidoh was relentless in his own respect. The snake kept on hitting strong, heavy balls, the spin and weight added to the ball overbearing to almost everyone with normal tennis training. However, Momoshiro was nowhere near normal himself. He was returning each ball with as much fervor and ferocity as Kaidoh was showing. Buckets of sweat were pouring off the two of them even though they were only six games into the match.

"Oi, mamushi, is this all you got?!" yelled Momoshiro as he caught and broke one of Kaidoh's short crosscourt snake shots.

"Shut up, peach butt, you're the one who's barely keeping up!" Kaidoh snapped back as he scored yet again with his Boomerang Snake.

"40-30! Game point for Kaidoh!"

Momoshiro cursed in annoyance, returning to the service points and taking one of the balls thrown his way by one of the line keepers. He straightened his back and took a deep breath, forcing himself to concentrate on the game. He was too muddled by his emotions and fiery countenance that he was forgetting strategy and his Insight. He closed his eyes and slowly attached himself to his surroundings, observing the patterns of every breath of every person around him, and the come and go of the soft sea breeze.

His skin prickled as he felt a faraway gust of wind approaching them, and rearing back, he slowly compressed the springs of the muscles in his back as he waited for the right moment to release his Dangan Serve (1).

_3… _

He threw the ball.

_2…_

"Dangan Serve, huh," Kaidoh murmured. "That won't work on me, Momoshiro."

_1… NOW!_

He let go of the springs in his back, his upper body catapulting back upright as he hit the ball with enough force to punch a hole straight through a solid wooden door. As the ball soared over the net, the gust of wind he had predicted blew over the court, and enhanced the spin of the ball, making it curve sideward.

"Deuce!"

"What the—?!" Kaidoh exclaimed.

"Don," grinned Momoshiro, pointing his finger straight at Kaidoh. "I won't lose to you, mamushi."

Kaidoh sent him a dark glare and returned to receiving point. "Enough with your gloating—hurry up and serve!"

Momoshiro repeated the same serve, but this time, there was no gust of wind to make his ball curve sideward. As such, the serve was easily voided and returned by Kaidoh, who made it a return ace by using the Tornado Snake instead.

"Advantage to Kaidoh!"

"Keh. Don't go running your mouth off, peach butt," smirked Kaidoh.

Momoshiro's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "Bastard…"

"Aaahh, boring," yawned Ryoma, picking himself off his bench and moving to the other nearby bench that was right beside Court 3, where Block C's last match was commencing. "Are? Taka-san lost already?"

"Yeah," Nanjiroh nodded, crunching on some of his favorite homemade popcorn, courtesy of his favorite kitchen staff of the Atobe's. "Inui took a little while to finish the match, but Fuji was quick and… well, as usual, merciless. It's Fuji and Inui now. Last match. Whoever wins goes to the final eliminations. I assume you've won already?"

"Aa. Easy win," Ryoma nodded, before he yelped in pain and surprise as a ball hit the back of his head. "OI, WHO THREW THAT?!"

"OCHIBI, DAMN YOU—"

"EIJI!" Oishi shouted, pulling Eiji back and starting to reprimand the redhead. "You just said sorry…"

Ryoma rolled his eyes, grumbling and tuning them out as he turned back towards Fuji and Inui's game, which just started. "Ne, oyaji, exactly why did you put Eiji and Oishi in the same block in the first place? Their pair and the Choutarou-Shishido pair are like, the only two dependable doubles pair we can really send out there to compete internationally."

"Oh, they're the only already-paired-together team out there, alright," nodded Nanjiroh. "But that doesn't mean they're the best possible ones, does it? Because surely we can make _better_ pairs with _better_ materials."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow at his father, not moving his eyes away from Fuji, who was getting ready for a Cut Serve (2). _Syuu-chan, Inui will expect that as your opening serve._

Fuji twisted and shot the ball sharply.

_But apparently, you already know, and you already don't care._

"Possibility of a Cut Serve as the opening move: 100 percent," Inui muttered to himself, shooting forward and pulling the only possible way to stop a Cut Serve: to hit it back before it disappears.

"That ball…"

Inui looked up, hearing Fuji's silent murmur.

"…is not a Cut Serve."

The ball swerved sharply to the left, before landing with frightening accuracy on the white line bordering the singles court and bouncing out to the periphery.

"15-0!"

Inui frowned, his eyes darting to Fuji and then to the ball, and then back.

Fuji smiled, pulling out another ball from his pocket. "Ne, Inui, let's make this quick, shall we? I really want to sit down and try some of the American biscotti and iced white chocolate Atobe was talking about earlier, and I want to try it with Ryoma-chan, who's waiting for me to finish right now."

Inui's eyebrow twitched as a sign that he was put off by Fuji's strangely aggressive behavior today. Translating Fuji's words from Fuji-speak into human language, Inui knew that Fuji meant that the match would be over in a few quick minutes without sweat. _Well, we'll see about that, won't we, Fuji?_

"Saa, the match between the geniuses begin," Nanjiroh mock-proclaimed, punching his fist into the air, before Ryoma slapped him over the back of his head. "Oww! Oi, Ryoma, stop manhandling your respectable father!"

Ryoma snorted loudly. "Respectable, my beautiful arse, oyaji."

Keigo chortled from outside the court where the rest of the teams were waiting for their turn. He knew that Ryoma was fond of the British pronunciation of "ass". 'It sounds cooler', he said.

"But I wonder which one will win, na," voiced Kevin from behind Ryoma. "The genius earned through hard work, or the genius gifted as natural talent?"

"Saa," shrugged Ryoma.

Fuji made a move to do the Cut Serve yet again.

_Same thing won't work on me twice, Fuji_, Inui thought fervently, this time knowing that this one was a real Cut Serve. He shot into a forward dash again.

"Baka Inui-senpai," snorted Ryoma, seeing through Fuji's intentions easily. "Fell right into the trap."

Just as Fuji was about to twist the ball and drop it, he instead twisted his hand and threw the ball _up_wards, before serving in a normal overhead serve—which completely escaped Inui. The ball soared over Inui's shocked head and landed squarely at the white line.

"30-0!"

"Saa, Inui, you're assuming too much," Fuji pointed out.

Inui simply frowned and returned to his receiving position again. Fuji chuckled from the other court as he bounced the ball up and down, before tossing it upwards very quickly and serving what seemed like a normal serve.

_Now this one I've got,_ Inui inwardly smirked.

"Again? Baka Inui-senpai," Ryoma sighed, dropping his head into one hand.

The serve that seemed like a perfectly normal, perfectly innocent overhead serve suddenly disappeared in midair before Inui could hit it back. The data genius staggered in his stance as he struggled to right himself after the missed shot. The ball "reappeared" again behind Inui as it landed on the white line and rolled off innocently as if it hadn't just done what it did.

"40-0!"

"An overhead Cut Serve," Ryoga noted, whistling. "Impressive. That shot's not easy."

"Ne, ochibi, how come you can read his pattern so easily?" asked Eiji.

"He used it on me once during private practice," explained Ryoma. "What a pain in the butt those techniques are."

"Since my soon-to-be son-in-law—oww! Okay, since the newest addition to my sons—itai! FINE!" snapped Nanjiroh, swatting Ryoma's abusive hands away with a venomous glare as he nursed his two new head bruises. "Since _Fuji_ has a lack of advantage when it comes to strength—which is obvious with his light frame—he needs to make up for it with speed, agility, and quick thinking. If you ask me, he's overdoing the quick thinking part. His and Yukimura's game play don't vary all that much. Since they both lack advantage when it comes to the physical stuff, they make the tennis court a war of the minds. Those who have weak wills or weak mind foundations would shatter underneath their strategies. And they're pretty sadistic too, needless to say, so their techniques are a bit… overkill."

"You can say that again," muttered Kirihara from outside of the courts, where he was resting against a tree and munching on one of the morning snack cookies he snatched from the lounge room's bar.

"And the result is what you see in Inui right now."

Inui frowned from his receiving position. _Will he do a Cut Serve? No—he'll do one of those overhead ones again! But wait, his hands aren't positioned right, and his racket is no—_

"1 game to love! Change court!"

Fuji had already shot the ball without Inui noticing—the data genius was too busy _analyzing _his precious data to actually notice the ball. Fuji flashed a brief feral smile at Inui, before his angel-face mask slipped back on again as they casually exchanged courts.

"Nice, Syuu-chan!" Ryoma called out, eliciting a brilliant, honest smile from Fuji that was very rare to see. (Kevin could swear he saw a camera flash went off.)

"Just a bit more, ne, Ryoma-chan," Fuji smiled as Fuji this time positioned himself as receiver. "We'll go and eat biscotti together after a few more."

"Un," nodded Ryoma.

From the other side of the court, Inui started bouncing the ball to indicate that he was ready to serve anytime. Fuji faced his opponent again and smiled. "Waterfall, huh, Inui?"

Inui frowned. "Yes. Why?"

"I'd suggest not. I'll be able to return it now," Fuji said, his smile widening a fraction of a millimeter; unnoticeable to most, but it was the barest of hints that he was not jesting. Unfortunately, 'most' included Inui, for he was not used to Fuji's changing expressions as well as Ryoma or Tezuka was. Even though the data genius had been observing everyone for a long time, he still didn't know Fuji that much. The fault lies within the long-established fact that always riveted many: the only person the data expert couldn't gather correct information from was _Fuji_.

The tensai was an expert at sending out wrong signals and confusing false hints, effectively messing with the psychological set-up of an unsuspecting victim. Truly the tensai was one of the people no one would ever want to cross. After all, not only did Fuji have valuable connections all around the place, he could also manipulate people so well that it was as if _he_ himself was the one doing the deed and was not just manipulating somebody.

No one knew, though, if Yukimura was better or not. Some said that the Rikkai captain was indeed better, but there was no clear proof. The two of them were almost identical twins, but there were slight distinct differences that the less observant would not right away notice. For one, Fuji was more aggressive, while Yukimura was more lenient. Fuji was more of the fear and blackmail type manipulator, while Yukimura was more of a seductor and persuasive type manipulator. Slight differences, but to those who could really see, those differences defined Fuji and Yukimura more profoundly than just the simple Fuji and Yukimura they already were pegged as.

Inui frowned. _Return it? You must be jesting, Fuji. Yeah, you are. There's no other way to explain it. Waterfall's speed is yet unmatched. You can't possibly catch it and return it, can you, Fuji?_

Inui sprung back and served his Waterfall Serve (3), the ball soaring across the court in what was supposedly the speed of a body of water falling down from a higher landmass to a lower one.

Fuji moved.

Fuji shifted.

Fuji aced.

Inui froze on his spot.

"…sugoi," breathed Kevin. "Ne, Toushi, did you see that? That was awesome."

Toushi was also wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Fui managed to return Inui's so far unmatched Waterfall. It clocked 212 kph, and yet Fuji had managed to ace a return. Just imagining how much force and spin Fuji had to bear and negate and measure to return that ball at normal speed was mind-boggling.

"What the—?!" Inui spluttered.

"I've been meaning to thank Nanjiroh-sensei for the intense training for a while now," Fuji smiled. "It's really improved my body, even though it looks like nothing's changed with my physique at all. My muscles seem more developed and are more easy to use. Though I have to admit, returning the Waterfall is no easy feat. It took me quite some thinking earlier to figure out how I would negate the sheer spin of the ball. I doubt I'll ever manage to produce the strength to do a serve like that."

And the game continued that way, with Inui being persistent with his Waterfall, and Fuji returning each one. Before long, it was a 2-0 count, in favor of Fuji. In the next game, though, Fuji started using normal serves, and the real rally began. It was another one of those fierce and stubborn and fiery rallies that were—and are still—common commodities within the teams.

A tap on his shoulder pulled Nanjiroh back from dreamland, and he whirled on his seat to face Tezuka standing behind him, holding his racket and looking thoroughly nonplussed. "Sensei, we have a bit of a problem."

"Yes?" Nanjiroh asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tezuka moved away and motioned behind him. Nanjiroh craned his head around to look at the second court, only to find a spread-eagled Momoshiro and a sprawled out Kaidoh both knocked out in exhaustion and were dead asleep on the ground. Nanjiroh face-faulted, before rubbing his forehead with his palm.

"It wasn't a good idea to let them go first, was it," Nanjiroh said, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"No, it wasn't," Tezuka agreed, slightly bemused if not disconcerted by the current situation.

"Damn stupid unbelievable brats," snorted Nanjiroh, before sighing. "Well, we can't help it, can we? You'll be advancing to the finals, then, kid captain. I'm sure it still would have ended this way otherwise."

Tezuka simply nodded in acknowledgement, before settling beside Ryoma and watching the continuing match between Fuji and Inui. It was now a 4-2 count, but it was still in favor of Fuji as expected.

"How boring, Kuni-bu," snorted Ryoma. "You didn't even get to sweat out."

"Ah, well, that's not exactly _my_ fault, is it?" Tezuka remarked, his lips quirking up a bit as he placed a hand on Ryoma's shoulder. Ryoma grinned and leaned into the touch, purring softly like a cat.

"Hmm, I wish Syuu-chan would finish his match soon so we could eat biscotti and iced white chocolate under one of the orange trees and relax until the matches are over…" murmured Ryoma as he leaned against Tezuka fully for support. Tezuka started kneading the back of his kouhai's neck.

"I'm sure he'll be done soon, kitten," muttered Tezuka, before sending a surreptitious glance at Fuji. Fuji nodded almost imperceptibly, before noticeably picking up the pace of his game with Inui.

"I'm sorry, Inui, but I have no more time to dilly-dally," Fuji apologized after he returned Inui's smash with his Tsubame Gaeshi (4). For the first time in this game, he used one of his infamous Counters. "I've got an appointment to keep."

And from there on, it was slaughter.

* * *

**After the Seigaku matches…**

"Nanda, Fuji-san didn't reveal any of his new moves!" whined Jiroh, rubbing his sleepy head again. "How annoying."

"I'm sure he'll reveal some of them when he's presented with the _need_ to reveal them," Oshitari remarked. "He, after all, doesn't go for the show-off style. He only shows off when he needs to."

Jiroh simply sighed. "I want to see his new mooooooooves," whined Jiroh, sidling closer to Keigo as the Seigaku team filed out of the courts for their break and the Rikkaidai team prepared for their matches. Nanjiroh passed by Keigo and Jiroh as the coach went to the big whiteboard where the tallies for the matches were written.

"Don't worry, Jiroh-kun," assured Nanjiroh in a low voice as he passed by. "I'll make sure Fuji faces off with a very special person of yours so that he'll show off his new techniques."

Jiroh and Keigo both stared after Nanjiroh's back as the coach started to cross out the losers and finalize the tally for Seigaku.

**SEIGAKU  
Block A: **Ryoma  
**Block B:** Tezuka**  
Block C:** Fuji

"Those three managed straight wins after all," shrugged Kevin.

"Well, did you expect anything different, ahn, Kevin?" Keigo drawled from where he was sitting under a huge umbrella erected to 'shade ore-sama's precious skin against the abusive sun'. "Of _course_ they were going to get straight wins. You seem to be forgetting who you're referring to."

Kevin sniffed in offense, shifting closer to Toushi, who simply chuckled silently and ignored the pout slash glare sent his way by the blonde.

"It seems the monkey's evolving and getting smarter," snorted Ryoma.

"Why, thank you for the compliment, Ryoma," Keigo smirked, taking a dainty sip of his freshly squeezed iced orange juice.

"But apparently," Ryoma continued as he settled under an orange tree nearby with Fuji and Tezuka. He was addressing Fuji but he made it clear as day to everyone who was within ten feet of hearing range, and that included Keigo. "The monkey's not yet smart enough to realize that he just insulted himself by accepting the so-called 'compliment' and admitting that he _is_ a monkey indeed."

Keigo choked—_daintily_, as he would insist later to redeem his wounded pride (whoever knew how to choke daintily was a genius in Ryoma's opinion, though)—on his juice as Kevin and Toushi both erupted in loud laughter that echoed throughout the entire backyard.

"It's no good, Keigo, Ryoma still has one up on ya!" Kevin howled with laughter, ignoring Keigo's scathing glares.

The Atobe heir simply ignored Ryoma, who was now comfortably snuggled against Fuji as he started demolishing the light snack consisting of the promised biscotti and iced white chocolate, and instead turned his eyes towards the commencing matches within the Rikkaidai blocks.

There were four courts and four blocks. Each block in Rikkaidai consisted of two players, and as such they would be short, one-on-one matches. However, the focus of the entire set was the first block, with Sanada and Yukimura going at it with each other without restraints, which was a rare event.

Even during practice runs, Sanada and Yukimura rarely paired up together, if they ever did. Most assumed it was because they were trying to avoid discord and division inside the Rikkaidai team. Whenever the two _did_ pair up against each other, those would be simple warm-up practices or short-lived restrained matches in which they would not even go all out with each other. True, Yukimura and Sanada often played in private together, but no one knew who really was stronger between the two.

Yukimura was known for his sly, underneath-the-radar techniques, while Sanada was known for his speed, agility, and versatility. Both of them were amongst the top ranked high school tennis players in Japan, alongside Tezuka, Fuji, Tachibana, Chitose, and Keigo (not counting Ryoma, who was mostly out of the country, of course). It was very ideal for Rikkaidai to have them on the same team, but at the same time it was quite disappointing that they would never face off against each other in an all-out team against team fight.

The two mentioned players approached each other and shook hands over the net, Yukimura's smiling face a stark contrast against Sanada's sharp, aggressive one.

"Let's have a good game, Genichirou," smiled Yukimura.

"Aa," nodded Sanada simply, before balancing his racket on its tip against the ground. "Rough or smooth?"

Yukimura's smile widened. "You know how I like it, Gen."

Ryoma, Fuji, Kevin, Keigo, and Toushi all snickered off on one side while Sanada miraculously managed to maintain a straight face, though his cheeks stained a light pink blush after a while. "Rough, then," grunted Sanada, eliciting more snickers as Yukimura nodded and the racket started spinning.

The racket soon clattered on the ground.

"Ah, so I lose this time? Your serve it is, then, Gen-chan," Yukimura smiled, handing Sanada his racket before walking off to the receiver's position. "Come."

Sanada's lips quirked in what could be taken as a smirk, before he tossed the yellow ball he was holding up high and swinging his racket in an inane speed that made it invisible to the naked eye.

"An Invisible Serve right away?" Oshitari remarked from where he was sitting with Keigo under the protective umbrella. Jiroh had previously been occupying his seat, but the sleepyhead opted to move to the covered divan behind Keigo which had a better view of the third court where Marui's match with Jackal would be held. "Going serious right at the beginning. This ought to be good."

"Argh, I hate those swings!" grumbled Ryoma, rubbing on his eyes and whining, eliciting an automatic response from Fuji, who immediately started petting and cocooning the younger player. ("Honestly, Fuji's spoiling him too much," Kevin grumbled to Toushi, who just shrugged.) "They make my eyes water."

"You can actually see them in choppy motions, can't you?" Tezuka remarked, getting a whine as a reply from Ryoma. "Your eyes are fast enough to pick those swings up."

"They hurt like hell after a while, though," grumbled Eiji, who was sitting with Oishi nearby. He, too, was rubbing on his eyes, while avoiding Oishi's swatting hands trying to prevent him from abusing his already abused eyes.

"Ah, well, that's compensation for the extra skill," Fuji stated, his eyes following Yukimura's movements carefully as the Rikkaidai captain returned the Invisible Serve with ease that could only be gathered through weathered play and practice.

"Ne, why are you watching Yukimura-san so closely, Syuu-chan?" asked Ryoma. "Don't tell me you're going to replace me with him."

Fuji simply chuckled and placed a kiss on the tip of Ryoma's nose fondly. "If things go right, Ryoma-chan, both of us—me and Yukimura, I mean—will be on Team Japan. I'm just being responsible and mapping out my soon-to-be teammate's play style in case the need to cooperate and play together against a foreign team comes across."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he turned back to the match.

Sanada proceeded using his consecutive Invisible Swings on each turn, but Yukimura was returning them evenly so. Every single shot was matched by the Rikkaidai captain, and neither of the two would back down voluntarily. Yukimura's eyes narrowed and he aimed the next ball at the very edge of the court, where there was a small, almost imperceptible stone. Taking a leaf out of Momoshiro's book, Yukimura shot the ball. As expected, it swerved sharply to the left and out of the court, giving Sanada no chance to retrieve it.

"15-0!"

Yukimura flashed a surreptitious smirk at Sanada, before moving back to his receiving position. On the other side of the court, Sanada's eyes narrowed. _Don't you think you'll get away with that._

As Sanada positioned himself and started tossing and bouncing the ball, Ryoma's eyes flitted towards the other court where Kirihara and Renji were facing off. It seemed that for now, Renji was holding ground over a struggling and scowling Kirihara. In Ryoma's point of view, he knew that Kirihara was now superior to Renji, compared to two years ago when they were back in middle school. Even though Renji had an upper hand when speaking in terms of tennis experience, Kirihara made up for it wonderfully with instinct, innate intuition, and potential. The youngest of Rikkaidai was known for being one of the geniuses after all.

But right now, for some reason, Kirihara was holding back while Renji stole all the shots. Ryoma frowned.

"Why's Kirihara holding back?" muttered Ryoma, craning his neck to get a clear look at the scoreboard. It read 4-1 to Renji.

Fuji's eyes switched over to where Kirihara and Renji were facing off. "Hmm… it could be that he doesn't want to use his trump card."

"But he's gonna lose," reasoned out Ryoma.

"Think about it, Ryoma. Even if he _does_ win, he'll eventually face you and me. Tezuka, Keigo, Yukimura or Sanada—maybe even both if they end a draw, which is very likely with how the game is progressing—and a few others that will be in the finals elimination. Tell me: how likely is it that he'll win against you or me?" Fuji reasoned right back.

Ryoma pouted and sighed. "Remind me never to argue with you again."

"2-2!"

"And we're even again," sighed Kevin, sinking to the ground beside Toushi. "Are we ever going to move forward with this?"

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport. This just makes it all the more interesting, doesn't it?" pointed out Toushi. "Besides, did you expect anything less from those two?"

Kevin simply rolled his eyes and resumed watching the match.

"How come Yukimura-san's not using special moves? Surely he has special moves of his own," Shinichi asked out of the blue. The match was now in the middle of the fifth game, and Sanada was already using his full arsenal, while Yukimura still was sticking to the basics.

"He doesn't really need to," shrugged Nanjiroh. "He's holding out just fine with the basics, so why reveal his moves? After all, there are later matches he must get ready for. And besides, he's mastered the basics so much that he doesn't even need the special moves to win. Just the basics are enough: speed, agility, accuracy, strength—he's losing out on none. He's a bit on the slighter side, though, like Fuji. So I suppose that he'll use the same tactics Fuji uses when faced with a really oppressing opponent. He probably has the same kind of moves—the same nature, I mean."

"Using the enemy's strength against them, huh," nodded Shinichi. "I see."

Just then, Jiroh exploded off his divan. "YEAH! YES! YOU GO, MARUI-SAN! ROCKIN' AWESOME!"

"Jiroh!!" snapped Keigo. "Sit your pert ass down and be quiet!"

"But-but-but-but!!! BUT!!" Jiroh bounced around Keigo. "Marui-san won, Keigo, Marui-san won!"

"Yeah, yeah, he won, okay, we get it," Keigo sighed.

Marui, slightly put off by the exuberant cheering Jiroh was doing, walked past without so much as a single glance. Jackal was close behind him, shoulders slightly and almost unnoticeably crumpled in defeat. They approached Nanjiroh, who grinned up at them. "So. How was it?"

Ryoma chucked the empty can of Ponta he was holding at his father's head—and it hit. "Don't ask 'how was it' like it was a vacation, baka oyaji."

Nanjiroh just grumbled and sent childish glares over to Ryoma, before looking back up to Marui. "Well?"

"6-3, to me," Marui relayed in monotone, taking the chilled bottle of water offered by one of the maids.

"Well done," nodded Nanjiroh. "Jackal-kun, you lose this time. Maybe next time, ne?"

Jackal nodded silently, sinking down on the grass under one orange tree.

* * *

**50 minutes later…**

"Deuce!"

"AGAIN?!" yelled Ryoma and Kevin in frustration.

Fuji chuckled, glancing at the scoreboards. Sanada and Yukimura were both proving to be pretty stubborn, and refused to let the game end. Each time one would score a shot, the other would not be far behind. The game was now on tiebreak, and the latest tally was 15-15.

"They've been at this for the past thirty minutes! We're not getting anywhere! How many deuces did you count, Kevin?" Ryoma ground out in frustration.

"I dunno, lost count," sighed Kevin. "This game, as exciting as it is, is starting to grate on my nerves. It just won't _end_!"

"Aw, come on," Eiji snorted. "Wasn't Atobe and ochibi's last match longer? If I remember correctly, the final count was 85-87, right?"

"I hated that match," grumbled Ryoma. But after a while, his countenance brightened again. "But there was one good thing about that match! I shaved Keigo's head bald!!"

And he dissolved into laughter with Kevin, while Keigo sulked off on one side.

"Who won in Yagyuu and Niou's match?" asked Eiji, who just noticed Yagyuu and Niou also watching the game between Sanada and Yukimura.

"I believe it was Yagyuu," Fuji replied. "It was a good match too."

"You were watching them, nya? I thought you were watching Sanada and Yukimura," pointed out Eiji.

"Ah, well, I'm a good with multitasking."

Soon enough, everyone was focused back on the game again. It was a very good and notable game, but it was dragging on for far too long. Ryoma loathed thinking that it would be as long as his and Keigo's game. Just thinking how long that game had been sent his nerves affray. After a few more silent minutes only accentuated with the rhythmic rally of the ball, Nanjiroh sighed and stood up, blowing loudly on whistle and effectively stopping Yukimura in mid-dash.

"Sensei?" Sanada voiced.

Nanjiroh sighed heavily again. "I'm sorry, boys, but I'll have to pull off both your matches. We'll end this in a win-win draw. You can probably continue this match later, if you want, but we need to move on with the selections."

Yukimura and Sanada were both frozen on court, and there was absolute silence over the crowd. It was unthinkable that the game would be stopped after reaching so long, but rationally thinking, Nanjiroh's decision was the right one. The final selections were still there to think about, and Hyotei had not even begun yet.

"Alright, sensei," acquiesced Yukimura, letting go of a breath he hadn't known he had been holding as he contemplated over the coach's decision. On the other side of the court, Sanada sighed in obvious disappointment, but acquiesced as well.

"Then that ends it for the Rikkaidai selections," Nanjiroh announced.

**RIKKAIDAI  
Block A:** Yukimura and Sanada (win-win)  
**Block B:** Renji  
**Block C:** Marui  
**Block D:** Yagyuu

Ryoma sighed as the Hyotei players started to get ready. "Ne, Syuu-chan, want to go on a walk with me? Kuni-bu too."

"Don't you want to watch the Hyotei matches?" asked Fuji.

Ryoma ran his eyes over the pairs to be fighting within the Hyotei blocks, the light breeze ruffling his hair as he did so. "There's no doubt that Keigo will win. Most likely, the Oshitari-Gakuto match will most likely end in a draw. If not, Oshitari will win and Gakuto's lacking stamina will fail him. He still haven't found a cure for that until now," Ryoma remarked, sighing. "The other matches are the ones I'm not too sure about, but I'm pretty sure that Keigo will get in, and as far as I'm concerned, that's what will count later in the final eliminations."

Fuji raised an eyebrow, before he chuckled and rose, brushing off the blades of grass stuck on his pants. "Are you coming too, Kunimitsu?" he asked.

Tezuka paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether he wanted or was needed to stay, before Oishi stepped in. "Go ahead, Tezuka. You three need some time alone. I'll take care of stuff here while you're off. Momoshiro and Kaidoh are not awake yet, so things should be pretty peaceful for a while. I can handle Eiji anyways."

Tezuka nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Oishi," he said, before rising and taking Fuji's offered hand. He brushed off his pants as he walked alongside the tensai towards where Ryoma was already frolicking.

"Wait up, neko-chan!" called Fuji, chuckling as Ryoma started walking and weaving around the orange trees and deeper into the woods. Fuji snatched his Nikon camera off one of the benches as they passed by and slung it around his neck, never once letting go of Tezuka's hand in his. They walked after Ryoma, who was stepping in and out of sight as if teasing them into a game of hide and seek. "Are you sure you know the way?"

Ryoma popped out from behind one of the trees and bounded towards them with a grin. "This place is so familiar to me that I know it like the back of my hand, Syuu-chan, so don't worry! I grew up here, see," hummed Ryoma, grabbing both Tezuka and Fuji's free hands and dragging them deeper into the foliage.

"Where are we going?" Tezuka asked, seeming to notice that Ryoma was following an invisible path.

"Oh, you'll see," Ryoma grinned, ducking under one of the trees' branches and walking towards a certain direction he knew by heart. His hand was tugged on by Fuji after a while of silent walking, though, stopping their progression. "Syuu-chan?"

"Wait," Fuji said silently, motioning for them to remain still as he picked up his camera from his chest and flicked it on. Fuji approached one of the low-hanging branches of the orange tree, were there was a very ripe orange—and a beautiful black and blue butterfly perched upon it leisurely. Searching for the right angle, Fuji weaved around the branch and posed his camera, trying to get the right view. Then, as soon as he got the angle he wanted, the shutter went off as he pressed down on the button. He viewed his shot again and smiled as Ryoma motioned for him.

"Let me see," Ryoma bounced eagerly, craning his neck around Fuji's arms to see the digital camera's screen. Fuji instead handed the camera to him—a thing he never did until now. Ryoma slowly and very carefully accepted the camera, smiling brightly at Fuji. He knew that this was yet another sign that the tensai was trusting him to take care of precious things, and he was glad. _Very_ glad.

Trust was growing.

"It's well-taken," smiled Tezuka—another rarity—as he viewed the image over Ryoma's shoulder. "You really have talent with this, Syuusuke."

"Are you gonna be a photographer, Syuu-chan?" asked Ryoma.

"Sure, if you're going to be my model," chuckled Fuji, placing a soft kiss on top of Ryoma's head.

Ryoma smirked. "Of course. I'm more beautiful than a hundred butterflies perched on a hundred oranges."

Tezuka and Fuji simultaneously erupted in amused chuckles, putting off Ryoma.

"Whaaaat? Am I not telling the truth?" Ryoma pouted, huffing indignantly. He was startled when Fuji snatched the camera from him and took a sudden snapshot of the pouting image he was portraying. "What—!!"

"Quite the opposite, Ryoma," smiled Tezuka, placing an arm around the younger teen. "We both agree that you're telling the truth."

"Huh?"

Fuji leaned down and pressed a soft chaste kiss on the corner of Ryoma's mouth. "You're more than beautiful, Ryoma. You're gorgeous"—a kiss—"a precious jewel"—another kiss—"one of a kind"—a nuzzle—"everlasting beauty."

Ryoma giggled against the tickling sensation of Fuji's dry but soft lips grazing over his skin, and backed into Tezuka, who openly embraced him and pulled him close. He closed his eyes and leaned into the three-way embrace, relishing the warmth he had so longed for during that grueling week he had been away from the arms of his lovers.

_This is heaven. Pure heaven._

The soft sea breeze brushed against them as they stood there entangled in each others' arms for a long period of time. How long it was, none of them knew. All they knew was that it was comfortable, it was warm, and it was oh so _right._

_I don't ever want this to end…_

Just then, a shout pulled them from their warmth- and proximity-induced trances.

"—ji! Ryoma! Tezuka!" called a voice, recognizably Kevin's. "Where the hell are you three?! Come on out, it's time for the finals!"

Ryoma, Tezuka, and Fuji exchanged silent glances, before they _un_-entangled themselves and moved out of the very small clearing they'd been standing in. The three of them moved back towards the direction they came from—well, according to Ryoma's sense of direction, anyways—and towards the voice calling out for them.

"Where were we headed anyways, Ryoma-chan?" asked Fuji silently, his thumb drawing circles over Ryoma's skin as they held hands.

Ryoma looked up. "Oh, we were headed towards our house. Our house here is just beside the manor gardens, and that was how Keigo and I first met."

At the mention of Keigo, Fuji stiffened noticeably and those soft blue eyes suddenly turned into steel.

Ryoma chuckled, pulling Fuji's hand—the one that was enclosed in his—up towards his face. He placed a soft kiss on the supple skin for assurance. "I won't go cheating on you with Keigo, Syuusuke."

"I still don't like him," grunted Fuji, eliciting chuckles and exchanged glances between Tezuka and Ryoma.

Soon enough, they emerged out of the woods and back into the open backyard by the courts, where Kevin was yelling for them.

"Where have you _been_?!" Kevin huffed, crossing his arms. "Ryoma, your mom's been looking for you. She's here—she managed to get off early from work."

"Nowhere in particular," shrugged Ryoma and smiling at his mom, who was beckoning them forth. "Well? What happened to the matches?"

"Keigo won as promised. Oshitari and Gakuto's match was a lose-lose draw. They both were too tired to continue. Stamina's too low. Choutarou-san won over Hiyoshi in Block C, while Jirou-san won over Shishido in Block D."

"What?!" Ryoma exclaimed.

"I know, that just totally dashed the chances of a good doubles pair getting into Team Japan," sighed Kevin. "Honestly, I don't know what ji-chan is thinking."

Fuji chuckled. "So far, so good, ne, Tezuka?"

"Aa," nodded Tezuka in agreement. Apparently, Tezuka also knew what Nanjiroh was planning. "Let's just hope what he's planning works, and works well."

The four of them walked back towards where Nanjiroh was rearranging the blocks for the final eliminations while humming a happy tune. Rinko was setting up some scrumptious-looking homemade banana splits on one of the long covered tables. But before Ryoma could grill Nanjiroh over the old coach's choices of matches, Atobe's majordomo approached them, bringing a message.

"Obocchama-tachi," (4) said the elderly majordomo, addressing all of them. "There are visitors for you."

"Visitors?"

"The sponsors for the tournament, sirs, as well as the EUSCH-ITF official representatives are here to visit you and watch over the final selections," announced the majordomo.

Keigo was about to say something, but before he could continue, a loud, boisterous voice echoed over the gardens.

"_**Well, well, look what we have here! Such an energetic bunch**_!" laughed the voice as heads swiveled towards the crowd of newcomers. The new crowd was led by a man around Nanjiroh's age, decked in an expensive looking Prada suit, complete with the Rolex watch and flawlessly polished Gucci shoes. He wasn't bad looking; quite charming, in fact. But there was something _off_ about the man's air. The said man turned towards Keigo. "_**Young Keigo. How nice it is to see you again after such a long time. My, how you've grown! I was just talking to your father a while ago; he did mention that you were quite the tennis player and lady killer. I do hope you'll do well against the team I will be sponsoring. My Team France is very well equipped this time around**_."

Keigo slowly set down his half-full cocktail glass, raising fiery eyes towards the man.

"_**Enough with the pleasantries, oh dear **_**Uncle Richard**," drawled Keigo with dripping sarcasm. "_**We both know that you want me to lose so you can rake in money with your gambling business. Sad to say I won't be entertaining you, though. Team Japan's members-to-be, after all, are internationally acclaimed and unbeaten players. So be careful with your money, dear uncle, because you don't want to… ah, **_**waste**_** it over the **_**wrong**_** team**_."

The entire garden was silent, afraid to shatter the exchange that was taking place.

Keigo smiled a feral smile at the man called Richard. "_**Oh, yes, I've heard you had **__**your**_**son**_**…**_" Keigo sneered, his eyes flashing. "_**… surrendered to kidnappers. Did you make room too early for you new heir—oh, wait. I forgot. **_**She**_** cannot run your business or inherit the family name, can she?**_"

"_**Keigo! Behave**_," snapped Ryoma.

Keigo simply shrugged, as if to say 'what's there to behave for?'.

"_**Now, now, dear Richard, we don't want to abuse our host's hospitality**_," came a woman's voice from behind Richard. She was obviously one of the sponsors, seeing that she didn't wear the customary shirt or blazer with the ITF logo on it.

Ryoga's eyes widened, and Nanjiroh's hand paused over the white board he was writing on.

"_**What the hell are you doing here?!**_" hissed Ryoga, shooting to his feet and surprising Shinichi, who was right beside him.

The woman chuckled. "_**Is that any way to greet your mother, Ryoga?**_"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

**(1) Dangan Serve** – Momoshiro's high-speed trademark serve. Roughly translates as "Bullet Serve".

**(2) Cut Serve** – Sometimes also called the "Disappearing Serve", this is a move mastered by Fuji and was shown in the anime during his match with Jiroh. Normally it is done by twisting the ball and letting it fall free, then hitting it as an underhand serve.

**(3) Waterfall** – Inui's ultra high-speed trademark serve. It was clocked in the anime at 212 kph.

**(4) Obocchama-tachi** – "Obocchama" or "bocchama" roughly translates as "young master". It is used as an honorary for young masters for heirs of families or young guests of a rich family. The "-tachi" attached at the end denotes plurality.

I have been writing for the past ten hours, and I am ready to retire in bed.

Read and then review.

Goodbye.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication: 05.15.07  
First Revision: __07.07.06_


	27. Step Twenty Six: Encounters

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written: Aventria

Love you people. The story is nearing the 1000-review mark, which I never imagined it would ever do. This is as good as an A for me! And it's all thanks to you guys.

Note: This chapter is a few hours late. Ah, well, my inspiration hit my right on Tuesday morning around 1:30, so there. My inspiration's a bit… unsettled right now. It's hitting me on all the weird times. I need to re-watch the series too in order to get more inspired. Ah well.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Six: Encounters**  
_(R__evised Version)_

* * *

Ryoga was not an easy person to surprise.

Having grown up in a very liberated, scarcely restricted public orphanage, he was not essentially picky with things, especially when pickiness was not an option. Sure, he loved his fame and fortune, but he could live without it. He grew up seeing and learning about lots of things—most of which weren't really conducive to the young, raw minds of children—and he survived it. He knew that he was voluntarily abandoned at the door of the orphanage since birth. He accepted that he had once been very poor and had no future to look forward to whatsoever. He grew up in a violent environment, often being pegged as the communal sandbag for the older kids. (Apparently, they weren't at all pleased with the Echizen gene of stubbornness, bratty behavior, and overflowing sarcasm.)

After leaving the Echizen household—a decision, he later realized, that was to be the worst decision he'd ever made and would ever make in his entire life—he saw and experienced more things that, to most people, would be eternally scarring and horrific. Being a top gun inside one of the biggest, most notorious and infamous American mafia led him to do some very unpleasant and unforgivable things. The Echizen family thought it was just one big gang he happened to join, but _no_, he was in the _mafia._

But of course, no one knew that, else he wouldn't be a professional tennis athlete like he was this very moment.

Still, the point stood. There were very few things that would surprise _the_ Echizen Ryoga.

But this situation was one of those.

"_**Cat got your tongue, son?**_" chuckled the voluptuous, middle-aged woman in front of them. She crossed one of her arms under her breasts—and Keigo knew that she did it only to unnecessarily enhance the view of her rack—while holding a cocktail glass in the other. Apparently, she was confident because the ITF personnel were still incomplete, and only the first few sponsors were yet present. "_**Come, now. You just disappeared like a bubble a few days ago. Surely you have something else to say to your worried mother?**_"

The 'worried mother' comment snapped Ryoga out of his shock-induced trance, and his face morphed into a mask of fury. "_**Worried, my ass, **_**Dahlia. **_**If you'll ever be worried, it'll either be about your money or your skin. I don't even consider you my mother any longer, so I practically don't care if you… **_**'worry'**_** about me**_."

The whole sentence was hissed out with such ferocity that Dahlia took a slight shaky step backwards, struggling to keep the half-sneer, half-seductive smile on her face while trying to keep the fear _off_ her face.

Suddenly, Nanjiroh stepped up and sighed, placing a hand on Ryoga's shoulder and pushing him slightly backwards. "_**Ryoga. Five laps to clear your head.**_"

"_**My head is perfectly clear, oya. As you can see, my brain registers that there's trash right in front of me, and I'm **_**itching**_** to get rid of it**_," Ryoga ground out. "_**Surely you can see the trash too? Or am I hallucinating?**_"

Nanjiroh did nothing but tightened his grip on Ryoga's shoulder, still not facing or making eye contact with Dahlia.

"_**Now, Nanjiroh**_," voiced Dahlia, immediately swerving the direction of conversation to the nearest available topic. "_**This is the first time the family's ever been together since… well, forever! Surely you can let go of the tennis for a few?**_"

"_**You know as well as I do that tennis is my life, Dahlia**_," Nanjiroh replied gruffly, finally facing Dahlia with an impassively neutral expression on his face.

Dahlia smiled enticingly. "_**But surely family is more important**_."

Both Nanjiroh and Ryoga made a move to retort against her comment, but another voice beat them to it.

"_**Aaah, how annoying**_," drawled Ryoma, scrunching up his nose as he gently detached himself from Tezuka and Fuji with meaningful glances that were returned with understanding and support. "_**This is why I don't like your **_**bad habits**_**, oyaji. You bring these… **_**trespassers**_** in, wenches who dare call themselves **_**family**_** when they're **_**obviously ****not**," he sighed, sending a bland glare at Nanjiroh, who simply shrugged in abandon. Dahlia's face visibly twitched in anger, but she seemed determined to school herself. Ryoma turned to Keigo. "_**Keigo, you need to work on the security. It seems to have gotten lax since the last time we were here.**_"

Keigo tilted his head in acknowledgement, but remained silent as a gesture that he knew this was a family moment and that they deserved a clean stage.

"_**Am I safe to assume that this is the youngest Echizen, Nanjiroh?**_" Dahlia purred, fluttering her eyelashes. Keigo choked on his cocktail, while the three Echizen men rolled their eyes skyward.

Fuji sighed, shaking his head. "That was stupid. She shouldn't have said any further."

"Well, she _looks_ stupid, even though I can't understand half of what they're saying," shrugged Eiji, forcibly ignoring Inui's mumbled promises of intense English tutoring sessions later with fervor to avoid dampening his mood.

"Oi, Eiji, that's rude!"

"What, it's true!!"

Before anyone could answer Dahlia, Rinko came forth and placed her hand on Ryoma's shoulder. "_**Now, Ryoma, don't be rude and introduce yourself first.**_"

"_**Rinko, what a pleasure to see you again**_," smiled Dahlia in a very predatory manner. "_**How many years has it been—ten? Fifteen? My, you seem to have… **_**aged**_** quite a lot.**_"

"_**With age comes wisdom, darling. However, I can see that you've accumulated no wisdom in the years that have passed, so maybe that only works for me**_," Rinko smiled right back, a challenging glint appearing in her eyes. Apparently, the trademark Echizen gene was not lost on Rinko as well. Dahlia's eyes darkened at the comment, obviously taking it as a serious blow. Fuji and Yukimura simultaneously noted for future reference that she was sensitive when it came to the intelligence-versus-beauty thing. "_**In any case, this is our youngest, Ryoma.**_"

Dahlia's eyes lingered on Rinko's for a moment longer, before turning back in a sharp motion to face Ryoma. "_**Ryoma… I see. So Ryoga's name was made to match his? I rather liked the name I gave my son: Adrian**_," she said, her attention flitting back towards Ryoga, who scowled.

"_**That's not my name, woman**_," the said Echizen snapped, but was ignored.

"_**Well anyway, it's a pleasure to finally meet the famous youngest precious heir of the Echizen prestige. I'm Dahlia Rothmann. Very pleased to be your acquainted**_."

Keigo had yet again failed to conceal his undignified choke as Ryoma snickered. "_**Of course. Let me express my utter mortification and disgust at the very thought of meeting the whore that was stupid enough not to use protection while having sex with one of her duped up patrons. It is absolutely my displeasure to meet you. They call me Echizen Ryoma, but they and you aren't the same, so don't call me that. Call me master, because I deserve it and because it fits you unlike that ugly unappealing dress **__**that's showing your sagging lard**_," drawled Ryoma, a smug smirk painted all over his face. By this time, half the court was already snickering, and Dahlia was reddening very quickly in shame. "_**Ah, by the way, it's supposed to be 'pleased to **_**make your acquaintance**_**', not **_**'be your acquainted'**_**. You might want to retake those precious grammar classes in elementary. You seem like you need it**_."

Dahlia was silent for a few moments among the loudening chuckles and barely suppressed snickers that were slowly blossoming into full-blown laughter, before she raised her hand and slapped Ryoma.

That action earned several outraged yells and lots of gasps from the surrounding crowd. Fuji and Tezuka immediately lunged forward for Ryoma, though the boy didn't really need their support as he barely staggered against the slap. He _was_ clutching his cheek, though. Keigo slowly stood from his seat, sending waves of fury out that it immediately silenced the entire Hyotei team. Yukimura had his ever-closed eyes open and was frowning in displeasure, while Ryoga and Nanjiroh were both fighting to restrain their fists and maintain courtesy in front of other guests. Kevin was openly yelling profanities at Dahlia, though, and he didn't seem to mind that it might damage his reputation.

"_**How **_**dare**_** you, you whelp! You have no right to speak to me like that!**_" snarled Dahlia, all courtesy and schooling forgotten.

"_**Yes, he does**_," Nanjiroh, still as impassive as ever, replied. "_**You were the one who came without warning, Dahlia. You're the one trespassing, not us. So we have all rights to speak however we want towards you. Especially him. He's my **_**son**_** after all, the son that was conceived legally, intentionally, and not by accident. But of course, Ryoga's my son too. I'm not as cruel as to disown him like you did, only to pull him back once you saw he was making money**_."

Ryoma, however, was not going to back down and let his father do all the bashing. He turned towards the woman and zeroed in on her with a few measured steps. "_**Miss Whoever-You-Are, I'd like you to remember five things. One: you need to change your perfume because you stink like rotting fish. Two: you were a **_**pastime**_** for my dad, not his wife, **__**nor**__** my mother, so don't get all comfortable. Three: no mother would voluntarily abandon her child to the orphanage on a passing whim for no solid presentable reason at all. Four: don't assume you know **_**anything**_** about our family, because you're not a **_**part**_** of it, and you never will be. And five: our family IS tennis, bitch!**_"

Without batting an eyelash, Ryoma brushed past Dahlia, minutely turning to Keigo for a single second, but not stopping his stride back towards the house. Disgust and displeasure was apparent on his grimacing face. "_**Keigo, can you please open the spa for me? Something very **_**nasty**_** has touched my beautiful face**_," he shuddered as Keigo, Fuji, and Tezuka automatically followed after him. The majordomo passed him a wet wipe, and Ryoma accepted it with a nod. "_**It's seeping into my skin. Oh god, I need to exfoliate!**_"

"_**Well?**_" snapped Keigo at the servants swarming around them. "_**You heard him! The spa, open the spa! And hurry it up!**_"

"_**Honestly, Keigo, you're rubbing off on him**_," snorted Kevin as he followed with Toushi. "_**He's beginning to sound… 'ore-sama'-ish**_."

"_**Shut up, Kevin**_," Keigo and Ryoma chimed at the same time as they disappeared into the covered backyard patio of the house.

* * *

"…mmm, so that's how it was," nodded Toushi, slowly swaying the can of Budweiser he was holding in his hand side to side, the contents swirling inside happily. Beside him, Kevin was looking out over the slowly darkening woods, also with a chilled Budweiser in hand. They were both out in the 'small' patio—according to Keigo it was small, but in Kevin's point of view, it was nowhere near _'small_'—connected too their double suite. The moist but cool air felt refreshing against their skin, and the peaceful sound of the sea crashing against the thunder cliffs was very relaxing. Their current atmosphere was a complete contrast to the earlier tension during the afternoon continuation of the final selection. "I never knew about that certain connection between you and Ryoga. I'm guessing no one else knows?"

Kevin nodded, then shrugged. "Maa, they can't blame me for not telling, because they never really asked."

"Well, yeah, there's that excuse," Toushi nodded. There was a silent pause as a sudden thought entered his mind. "Won't Ryoma be mad, though?"

"Him? Nah. He's not that stingy about secrets when it comes to friends and best friends," Kevin shrugged. "Lovers, though—that's a different matter."

"Ah, well, that's not your department anymore," Toushi chuckled. "Leave that to Fuji and Tezuka."

"Sou ne," smiled Kevin, lifting a hand against the breeze and combing his fingers through his still slightly damp blonde hair. Peaceful and comfortable silence echoed between them as they both leaned against the railing, Kevin facing the woods and Toushi facing the room. The blonde glanced over to where Toushi was adjusting his back against the railing. "Toushi."

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure you won't join the tournament? You can still catch up if you talk to ji-chan, you know. He'll surely put you on the team, knowing your talent."

Toushi replied with a short snort. "I told you I'm not joining if you're on the opposing team, Kevin. Well, one of the opposing teams, anyway."

Kevin sent Toushi an annoyed glance. "Are you scared of having a match with me or something?"

"Not that," Toushi waved off, taking a short gulp of his drink and throwing his head back against the wind that was slowly picking up.

"Then _what_?! You're wasting the opportunity!"

Toushi was silent for a long while. He simply looked up at the rainbow-painted sky, the noise created downstairs by the other teams reaching his ears. He ignored it and closed his eyes, laughing silently. "…honestly speaking, Kevin, I don't want to play you not because of that reason brewing inside your yellow little head. I just…"

"…just?" prompted Kevin, standing up straight and narrowing his eyes, as if demanding a just explanation.

Toushi snapped his head back to normal levels and opened his stark green eyes, Kevin's brilliant sapphire clashing with his own emeralds. "…I just want a smooth ground. For us."

Kevin remained silent.

"…our… relationship… is still young. We're not as established as… as Ryoma and Fuji and Tezuka are. They have foundation after having known together for so long. We're not like that. Tension between us at this moment will be fatal to the relationship. I want smooth ground for now. For me, this relationship is far more important than the tournament. Other opportunities will come," pointed out Toushi. "One day, we'll both be strong enough—and our relationship will be strong enough—to stand the tension of being each other's opponents in a real, big time tournament. But not right now. We're still on shaky ground here. Let's smoothen things out first, ne?"

As Toushi explained his reasoning, the frown on Kevin's face steadily deepened. The blonde took a gulp of the alcoholic beverage he was holding in his hand as if he wasn't sixteen years old and barely a man. Even the other players were marveling at the strength Toushi and Kevin's alcohol tolerance levels. Kevin trailed his eyes again on Toushi's expectant face, before releasing a long suffering sigh and slumping his shoulders.

"You really handle this relationship stuff well, don't you, Tou?" he grumbled, slowly stepping forward and leaning his forehead against Toushi's shoulder. The white-haired boy's free arm came around the blonde's waist automatically, holding the other boy in a loose but affectionate embrace. "Are you being honest when you say that this is your first serious try in a relationship?"

Toushi laughed lightly, ruffling his hair slightly with his hand that was holding the beer can. "'Course I am! I've never lied to you yet, have I?"

Kevin gently moved his face against Toushi's neck with ease. "No, not yet," he said with a smile that Toushi felt against skin.

"Maa, I'll just help you train or cheer you on or watch your matches or… well, whatever you want me to do," grinned Toushi, slightly nuzzling into Kevin's wayward blonde locks. "I'll be right here whenever you need anything."

"Mm… this feels nice," Kevin hummed in reply, leaning more into the gentle embrace. "We should do this more often. So relaxing… compared to that horror tension earlier…"

Toushi chuckled, nudging Kevin's head slightly until he could place a soft kiss on the blonde's temple, which he did. "Well, what else did you expect? The finals were tough. The first and second matches were easy, but the last matches were…"

"…killer matches, weren't they?" chuckled Kevin. "I wonder exactly how Nan-ji-chan's going to pick out the team. There were five winners in the four blocks, but—"

"OI, YOU TWO!" yelled a loud voice from outside their locked suite door. A fist banged several times on the wooden panel. "THE COACH'S CALLING! MEETING IN THE LOUNGE!"

"Yeah, we'll be down in a few!" Toushi called back, but the footsteps indicated that whoever had called—it sounded like Momoshiro—was already moving down the corridor and heading towards the lounge. He turned towards Kevin, who was still nestled against him. "Looks like you'll be getting the answer to your question soon, babe."

A scowl materialized on Kevin's face, and he pushed himself off Toushi in a slightly abrupt manner. "How many times do I have to tell you: DO. NOT. CALL. ME. _BABE_!!" roared Kevin, making Toushi laugh out loud. "I feel like I'm that pig in that… that whatever movie!"

"That's interesting," snorted Toushi, giggling. "A blonde pig!"

Kevin roared and attempted to tackle Toushi, who dodged and darted away from the enraged blonde. Soon enough, though, he was trapped between the wall and Kevin. He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender, careful not to spill or let go of the beer can. "Alright, alright, I give up! I'm sorry I called you 'babe'!"

Kevin frowned, pushing his face near Toushi's and narrowing his eyes. "That's not for real."

"Yes it is!" Toushi laughed. "Now come on, let me go, we need to get down to the lounge for the meeting! You know how stingy Nanjiroh-sensei can get when people—other than him—are late!"

Kevin harrumphed as Toushi's point made more sense. He drew away and let his boyfriend go, before setting his beer can on the bedside table and stalking out towards the door. Toushi was staring at his back, still leaning against the wall. "Well? Are you going to ogle at my ass all day? Come on, move it!"

Toushi grinned, rubbing his head and following. "Can't blame me for staring…"

* * *

Ryoma was upset.

Characteristically, when an Echizen was upset, there were three symptoms: extremely adorable pouting; persistent ignorance of the very unfortunate being that instilled the Echizen's upset; and last—but definitely not the least—an extremely grouchy behavior coupled with a scathingly sarcastic lashing tongue. To an average person, these symptoms would be normal and not that alarming. But of course, the Echizens were nowhere near average.

With them, the hailed Echizen gene kicks in, and it is then that push comes to shove.

"Get out of my way!" hissed Ryoma, pushing through the crowd of players curiously milling around and waiting for Nanjiroh to speak up. The Echizen junior shoved his way to the front row, before bodily heaving a squawking Momoshiro off the squashiest big red chair near the sweets table and depositing himself on it instead. He snatched a big, luscious-looking chocolate ball from Keigo—who was amusedly sitting across him—and pushed it into his mouth, before pulling the whole plate of wrapped truffles towards him and proceeding to demolish it.

There were two possible manifestations of your normal, average person's upset: whiny behavior or aggressive behavior. Usually, it varies according to the person's personality, lifestyle, situation, and respective problem. The severity of the symptoms would also vary from person to person and from case to case; there was no permanent condition. But _again_, the Echizens were nowhere near average.

And as such, this was the result. An unpredictable _mix_.

Fuji swept into the room elegantly, immediately swerving over to the direction of Ryoma without breaking his stride. As soon as the junior Echizen—who was now the center of attention once again, this time because of his curious mood—caught sight of his free lover (because the other was temporarily snatched by Nanjiroh for some 'planning'), all traces of animosity and aggressiveness vanished. Tears came to his eyes and his pout elongated impossibly instead.

"Syuuuuuu-chaaaaaaaaaan!" groused Ryoma, holding his arms out like a toddler wanting to be picked up (which is exactly what he wanted).

Fuji quickened his stride and crossed the huge lounge, exchanging glances with an equally worried yet slightly bemused Tezuka. The Seigaku captain was sitting off in one corner with Nanjiroh, who was briefing said captain. Apparently, Yukimura, Tachibana, and Atobe were all through with their respective briefings; Tezuka was the last, and it looked like it was almost finished in his case.

Fuji returned his gaze upon the teary, waiting Ryoma, and a gorgeous, gentle, honest smile blossomed upon his face. Most of the others swooned at the sight, while the already immune were indifferent. He reached out for the younger player as he came within arm's reach and picked Ryoma up gently. Ryoma's legs automatically coiled around Fuji's hips, while his arms came around Fuji's neck. He buried his face into the tensai's neck, who merely chuckled and let him do as he pleased.

"It's okay, kitten, I'm right here," consoled Fuji, carefully easing himself onto the squashy chair with Ryoma still comfortably straddling him. Ryoma only replied with a slight nuzzle and a pleased purr.

Just then, Kevin and Toushi came waltzing into the lounge room, both of them apparently in high spirits—the complete opposite of the poor fellow currently saddled upon Fuji's lap. Kevin immediately made a beeline for where Ryoma was as usual, the undying devotion to his best friend yet unmatched even by his still growing love for his new boyfriend. (Not that Toushi didn't have a chance.)

"Are? What's wrong? Who burst your happy balloon, Ryo?" voiced Kevin curiously, poking at Ryoma's lower back while Toushi curiously peered over his shoulder. Keigo was sipping his wine peacefully off across them with a bemused expression on his face, playing the perfect spectator. Kevin poked harder. "Ryoma?"

Ryoma's head snapped around and he hissed aggressively like a cat, making Kevin immediately back off.

"Okay, okay!" chuckled Kevin apprehensively, holding his hands up in surrender. The blonde exchanged a glance with Keigo, who nodded. "Ah, I see, so it's one of _those_ mood swings again. What triggered it this time, eih?"

Fuji smiled. "Ah, well…" the tensai began, but appeared hesitant to continue his sentence. Kevin raised an eyebrow as Fuji swiveled his eyes from Ryoma to Yukimura, and back.

Kevin paused for a second, before voicing, "Ooooh! Oooh. Ohh-kay. Okay," nodded Kevin, now cautiously distancing himself from Ryoma and Fuji by sitting beside Keigo with Toushi. He knew from experience that when Ryoma was in one of _those_ mood swings, it was better not to approach him if you weren't _the _person—or _one of_ the persons—who could calm and placate the boy.

"Alright, gather 'round, seishounen-tachi, gather 'round!" called Nanjiroh over the milling crowd, effectively silencing the players.

Tezuka walked back over to where Fuji and Ryoma were sitting, settling himself beside them on the squashy red loveseat. He immediately stopped assuming the role of model captain and resumed being the model lover, placing a gentle comforting hand on Ryoma's back and starting to knead in circles. His efforts were well-paid with an obviously satisfied purr.

Ryoma turned his head away from Fuji's neck and faced Tezuka, but remained in Fuji's embrace. "Kuni-buuuuuuu…"

"Aa, I'm right here, pet," Tezuka reassured, placing a soft kiss on the tip of Ryoma's nose in a rare show of public affection.

"You three, enough of the lovey—"

"SHUT UP, OYAJI!" exploded Ryoma in a sudden burst of energy that made half the room jump in surprise.

Silence.

"Kuni-buuuuuuuuu…" Ryoma griped, returning to his prior position and adjusting himself on Fuji's lap. Tezuka simply resumed petting Ryoma, having seen and heard everything Ryoma had to offer as an explanation for his behavior earlier in their quarters.

_**Flashback**_

_Tezuka watched Fuji and Ryoma from where he was perched on his reading chair by the bed. Fuji was currently running a brush through Ryoma's dark locks, while the younger player remained quiet and acquiesced to the tensai's wishes. Said blue-eyed brunet apparently had developed a severe fondness of Ryoma's hair, and now resorted to his hair-fiddling whenever an opportunity presented itself._

"_You're awfully silent tonight, Ryoma," Tezuka remarked after a few more minutes of blank—but blissfully comfortable—silence._

_And out came the first pout of the night. _

"_Ryoma?" voiced Tezuka. Fuji picked up the note of increased interest and a hint of concern in Tezuka's voice with expert precision. He immediately ceased brushing Ryoma's already perfectly tangle-free smooth hair, setting the brush aside and placing both his hands on Ryoma's shoulders._

"_Ryoma-chan? Is there something bothering you?" asked Fuji gently._

_Ryoma's pout elongated. "The match."_

_There was a long pause, before Fuji slowly released a noisy breath, drawing Ryoma close to him. "You mean your match with Yukimura earlier?"_

_A nod._

"_Does it upset you that you lost?"_

_Silence._

"_So it does," Fuji silently concluded from his answer—or lack thereof._

_Tezuka closed the heavy tome he had been reading and placed it on the bedside table beside his side of the bed. The three of them had been sharing a luxury bed big enough for five, and Ryoma was always sandwiched comfortably in a warm cocoon in between them at night. As such, it was only him and Fuji who had their own respective bedside tables, but Ryoma said it was no problem; he never really needed one. He was neither a bedtime reader, nor an aspiring photographer like Fuji who liked to hoard as much National Geographic and LIFE magazines as possible to take and keep the pictures from them._

_The captain slid over to where Fuji and Ryoma was on the very center of the bed and gathered Ryoma into his arms. As soon as Ryoma was arranged comfortably on his lap, he placed a soft kiss on top of the black head. "Ryoma… losing is a part of playing. Without losing, tennis is _nothing_."_

_Fuji silently chuckled, shaking his head inwardly. _Same as usual—straightforward and blunt, ne, Tezuka? That can be a double-edged blade, you know…

"_I _KNOW_ that!" snapped Ryoma, scowling. "I _know _that…" he repeated in a weaker tone._

"_Do you really?" Fuji asked. "Do you _know_ it by mind, or _know _it by heart?"_

"…_you sound like a book, Syuu-chan," Ryoma chuckled wetly._

"_I know I do, but well, some books tell reliable facts," Fuji pointed out. _

_Tezuka petted Ryoma. "Ryoma, we all know you're a very formidable player. Very few of us can match you now. Probably only those counted in Team Japan can match your strength when it comes to tennis, and that's something that we all expected the moment we saw you and your style on court. You have unmeasured potential. You're strong, dynamic, willful, determined. The very making of a champion."_

_Fuji giggled. "Tezuka, you're making his head bigger than it already is," he said in a jesting chide._

_Ryoma stuck his tongue out at the tensai, who simply smiled wider, before turning back to snuggle against Tezuka._

"_But Ryoma…" Tezuka continued, as if he wasn't disturbed in the first place. "…do you know what a champion really is?"_

"…_heh?"_

"_A champion is someone who has experienced hurdles and overcame them. A tennis champion is someone who's experienced all kinds of matches and moved through them—and whatever they brought as well—with strength and determination," Tezuka explained. "It doesn't necessarily mean that you win every single match. No. In order to experience _all kinds_ of matches, you need to experience _loss_. And you need to move through it, along with everything it brings."_

"_That is, if you don't want to give up yet," Fuji pointed out. "You can always give up anytime, see. No one's really stopping you if you _really_ want to. No one _can_ stop you if you really want to. But each time you give something up, it's like you're poking bigger holes into a big balloon. Each hope, each dream—each of them slowly deflates into nothingness. And when there's nothing left, can you imagine how boring it is?"_

_Ryoma paused for a second, before scrunching up his nose. Fuji chuckled._

"_See what we mean?" Tezuka smiled. "Losing is but another challenge, another match."_

_Ryoma struggled to right his face, trying to erase the evidence of his pout bouts, and failing miserably._

_This time, Fuji laughed lightly. "It doesn't necessarily mean you can't let go of your negative charges from having lost, Ryo-chan!"_

_Tezuka nodded. "It's even worse if you keep it all in. Like a balloon filled with too much water—you burst."_

"_Mou, what is it with you two and balloons today?" groused Ryoma, leaning back against Tezuka in surrender. "Maa, ii. I'll spend all my 'negative charges' tonight like you say, then. But don't blame me if it gets extreme."_

"_Hai, hai," Fuji smiled, resuming their three-way cuddling._

_**End of Flashback**_

And thus, he and Fuji were now stuck with a pouting black-haired, cat-eyed ball of moodiness.

"Eh… right, let's just ignore them to be safe," Nanjiroh recovered, scratching his head and turning away from the threesome. "The lineup for the earlier final selections is posted on that quasi-bulletin board over there," pointed Nanjiroh over to the wall where a huge board was erected and the poster was tacked on it. "Though I think you really don't need to read it, because all of you watched the matches earlier."

The board said:

**FINAL SELECTION  
A:** Ryoma, Yukimura, Marui (First: Yukimura; Second: Ryoma)  
**B:** Tezuka, Sanada, Choutarou (First: Tezuka; Second: Sanada)  
**C:** Fuji, Keigo, Jirou (First: DRAW Fuji and Keigo; Second: Jirou)  
**D: **Renji, Tachibana, Yagyuu (First: Tachibana; Second: Renji)

"You still haven't told us about that one thing you mentioned earlier, sensei," pointed out Fuji. "You said there was someone who had been granted a spot into the team."

"Ah, yes," Nanjiroh nodded, folding his feet under himself. "Yes, I forgot about that. I trust you all know Senri Chitose?"

"Eh?!" Tachibana voiced in shock. It was just that he was the first one to react; Chitose was, after all, an old friend of his. "Chitose's coming?"

"Un," nodded Nanjiroh. "Some ITF scouts were stationed in the south, see, and they spotted some good players. He was chosen, and he was granted an automatic spot on the team. If I'm not mistaken, he'll arrive the day after tomorrow. He was just notified this morning that he would be leaving, and he asked for a day to settle things down before he left. Something about his family—his sister especially."

Tezuka nodded. "Ah, that girl," he remembered. "I remember Chitose was particularly protective over her."

Ryoma growled, and Fuji chuckled. "Daijoubu, kitten, Kunimitsu won't exchange you for her, I'm sure."

"You'd better be," grumbled Ryoma, turning in the embrace to get more comfortable.

"So Chitose's already on the team," Keigo clarified, swerving the conversation back to the original topic. "And the winners in the final selection are guaranteed their spots. That makes Chitose, Yukimura, Tezuka, Tachibana, Fuji and me. But that's six of us. How many slots are left? How many are we allowed, exactly?"

"Eight slots," Nanjiroh replied. "A complete line-up. Three for singles, four for doubles, and one for reserve. It's up to us to plan our line-ups for each game, though, so we'd better get diverse, dynamic players."

"Don't you think we have a bit of a problem in the doubles department?" pointed out Eiji. "Unya, there's no solid doubles team within the chosen people."

"Have we finalized who's in and who's out, neko-chan?" Nanjiroh quipped. "We haven't yet. So there's Keigo, Fuji, Tezuka, Yukimura, Tachibana, and Chitose. Six. Now the rest, we're going to take from the people who seconded. We need two more, and I'm going to let you vote on this."

There was wave of murmurs washing over the crowd when Shishido spoke up. "It's an easy decision, isn't it? Obviously it has to be Echizen-kun and Sanada-san."

Another wave of agreeing murmurs washed over the crowd.

"To be fair, why don't you do a hand count vote?" suggested Fuji.

"Good idea," Nanjiroh nodded. "Saa, those for… Ryoma?"

Almost the entire crowd raised their hands. "That's decided, then," Nanjiroh sighed. "Sanada?"

Again, almost the entire crowd raised their hands. "Well, apparently, that's decided too."

Renji smiled. "I was never planning on joining anyways. I'd like to stay behind as one of the assistant trainers, if that's okay, sensei."

"Hmm?" Nanjiroh said. "Well, if that's so, then you'll have to cooperate with Inui-kun, who's already taking up the post of assistant trainer. S'that okay?"

Renji nodded his agreement.

"Yosh, that's decided, then. Ryoma, Tezuka, Chitose, Fuji, Keigo, Sanada, Yukimura, and Tachibana in Team Japan," nodded Nanjiroh, jotting it down in that small notebook he always carried around for planning.

"We're counting on you guys," smiled Oishi.

"Fujiko, make them all suffer, nya!" cheered Eiji.

"Oi, matte, matte, the problems don't end there," Shishido spoke. "The doubles teams—we're in a bit of a pinch on that one!"

"Ah, daijoubu, daijoubu, I've already figured out that one," Nanjiroh waved off, tapping the end of his pen against his notes. "Just by looking at the players, I can see the base lineup already. We can of course still change it according to the situation, but it's the mainframe, shall we say."

"…well?" Keigo prompted impatiently, drumming his fingers against the arm of his couch.

Nanjiroh cleared his throat. "Singles 01: Ryoma. He has experience within the professional tennis court, so he's the best bet. It _may_ change, though. Singles 02: Tezuka. Another all-rounder player; that's good, we need all-rounders. Singles 03: Tachibana. Make sure they don't even reach Singles 02, got it?" recited Nanjiroh.

Tachibana nodded affirmatively. "They won't."

"Good," Nanjiroh continued. "Chitose will be our reserve player, since I haven't gauged his capacity yet. I want to see it with my own eyes first; videos and reports aren't that reliable when it comes to these things."

"So you were planning this, after all," sighed Keigo, setting his wine glass on the table before him. "I'd wager the first doubles pair will be Yukimura and Fuji, and then the second would be me and Sanada. Correct?"

"Smart Kei-chan!" Nanjiroh snapped his fingers, grinning. "You caught exactly what I was thinking about."

"Geh—YUKIMURA-SAN AND FUJIKO?!" yelled Eiji.

There was silence after that proclamation as shudders of trepidation washed over the crowd like a wave. Similar feelings of sympathy for the opponents-to-be of the said pair were very proclaimed in the air. Yukimura and Fuji had more than one thing in common; the freaky twin-ish similar smiles that painted their faces all the time, the gentleness and kindness to people who they care for, the attachment to their 'baby boys,' their irrefutably amazing reputation and records—those were a few. But the most catching characteristic about the two were none of those; no.

It was the inherent pleasure they felt at the suffering of others—it was the sadism.

"Saa, as I said earlier, yoroshiku ne, Yukimura-kun," Fuji smiled serenely over Ryoma's head, which was still tucked silently under Fuji's chin.

"Please, Fuji-kun, just Seiichi," Yukimura smiled right back. "If we're going to work together, we might as well get along, right?"

"Then I insist you call me just Syuusuke as well," Fuji replied. "And I can feel that we're going to get along _very_ well."

Ryoma moved his head slightly and looked at Yukimura. "Sei-chan, take care of my Syuu-chan, ne?"

Kirihara, who was right beside Yukimura (and was being petted as well), snarled at Ryoma's familiarity. Yukimura chuckled, calming the other 'baby boy' with his gentle touches. "Now, now, Aka-chan, play nice. Ryo-chan's just entrusting Syuusuke-kun to me."

"Hah, of course they'll get along. They have more than one thing in common. Look at that, they're both caretakers of moody little baby boys," Keigo chuckled, before turning to Sanada. "Well, Sanada, it seems we're in on this together again."

"It really doesn't matter, as long as you don't go pulling my leg," Sanada said, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. Keigo's eyebrow rose, as if to say 'ore-sama does _not_ pull legs,' before Sanada opened his eyes again. "Say, do you still have _that_ piece?"

Keigo smirked. "Of course. I gather it's in the music library. If ever you want to listen to it, go down there or ask one of the servants."

Ryoma turned to Keigo. "Oooh, so saru-sama and Sanada like dancing tango—together!"

Fuji, Yukimura, Kevin, and half the crowd immediately started snickering as Sanada's face slowly contorted into a frown and Keigo's eyebrow twitched numerous times. However, Fuji sent a warning glare towards Sanada as the Rikkaidai vice captain continued to frown towards Ryoma. The message was crystal: steer clear of Ryoma.

Sanada simply scowled and looked away, to Fuji's satisfaction. The intimidation tactic really hasn't failed him yet all through the years.

"Saru-sama is mada mada dane at tango, though," sniffed Ryoma, nuzzling the side of Fuji's neck. "At least compared to me."

"Hoi! Ochibi, you know how to tango, nya?" Eiji asked. "Whoa… that's really difficult!"

Gakuto sneered. "Hah! It's so easy! You're just a wimp, Kikumaru."

"Shut up, carrot-top!" frothed Eiji.

"Why you—"

"Alright, alright, stop it right there!!!" snapped Nanjiroh, looking up from the notebook he had been poring over for the last few minutes. "I didn't say you can resume your catfights, you two. I'm not finished yet," huffed Nanjiroh.

Keigo raised an eyebrow. "What else is there?"

"Somebody tell me what the greatest risk is when playing tennis," Nanjiroh said simply.

"…eh?" Choutarou mumbled.

"Greatest risk…?" voiced Kamio.

"Isn't that a bit too shady for a question?" Shinji pointed out. "Too vague."

"That's eaaaaaaaasy," mumbled Ryoma, his eyes drooping as the warmth of Fuji's embrace slowly lulled him to sleep. "Injury."

"That's right, injury," Nanjiroh nodded. "That's one thing I hammered into Ryoma's head ever since childhood."

"In a not so nice manner, might I add," Keigo chuckled, earning a glare from the Echizen patriarch.

"Shut up, Keigo," Nanjiroh quipped. "Anyways, I won't be risking being booted out of the tournament because our players are injured. Taking into consideration the kind of headstrong players we've got on the team, I'm pretty sure soon enough injuries _will _come up. I won't be losing because of that."

"Because you've got bets going," snorted Ryoga, nodding in understanding, before his father chucked a pillow at his face.

Ignoring Ryoga's remark, Nanjiroh continued. "As such, I put together another team—the Reserve team. We'll now have two full teams: the Varsity, and the Reserve."

"Reserve…?" voiced half the crowd.

"Yes, a Reserve Team of eight members as well," nodded Nanjiroh. "Jirou is automatically granted a post—he _was_ one of the Seconds after all. Renji opted out, so that leaves seven blank posts. Jirou is better suited for Singles, so he'll be filling in Singles 03. I've handpicked the rest of these, and I'm going to tell you now—if you have complaints, save it for later after I finish," Nanjiroh said. "Oshitari for Singles 01. Kirihara for Singles 02. Shinichi for Reserve—I got his American visa cleared this afternoon. Oishi and Eiji for Doubles 01. Choutarou and Shishido for Doubles 02. That makes the Reserve team. Any… discrepancies?"

There was a pause as the players seemed to glance at each other and shrug. "None," came a chorus of answers.

"The lineup is good," nodded Inui. "Very practical indeed."

"This will be easier to work on, no, Sadaharu?" Renji remarked. "Training patterns are simpler."

Inui replied with a short nod, before he beckoned Renji close and showed him something within the sacred green notebook—and there the data pair went, disappearing into their world of data and calculation. Off to one corner, Kaidoh was hissing beside Momoshiro, who was sighing with shoulders slumped.

"Inui-senpai is so hopeless," Momoshiro sighed in dismay.

* * *

Yukimura watched in amusement as the Seigaku triumvirate walked out of the lounge. Well, to put it more precisely, _two_ of the three walked out of the lounge, while the third member was tightly coiled around the taller of the former two. Ryoma's lips softly curved into a satisfied smile in his sleep, the cat-eyed boy's cheek resting blissfully on Tezuka's shoulder. His arms were wound comfortably around the captain's shoulders, those long athletic legs coiled tightly and securely around said captain's hips.

Fuji had long since switched positions with Tezuka to let himself breathe for a bit and relax. That didn't mean that the tensai's attention shifted, though. Even now, the tensai was doting on Ryoma as much as he could—currently he was rubbing circles on Ryoma's back while an arm was around Tezuka to support the weight—just as he had been doing earlier.

He glanced back to where Sanada and Kirihara were settled on the huge mauve loveseat in the lounge near the acacia patio doors, and smiled at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Kirihara was peacefully snuggled up against Sanada, who was absently weaving his hands into the wavy black hair of the younger player. The vice captain held a book in his free hand, and seemed completely enamored in his reading.

"Gen-chan," called Yukimura, approaching his two lovers. He had sent off Fuji, Tezuka, and Ryoma for the night—they were the only ones remaining now. "How about we retire for the night? It's almost midnight, and we still have a tour tomorrow…"

Sanada looked up from his book at Yukimura's voice, and nodded at the suggestion, silently snapping his book shut. "It seems our little pet's fallen asleep," Sanada mused, glancing fondly at Kirihara's sleeping face. "He seems so harmless when he's asleep."

Yukimura laughed lightly. "When he's asleep," agreed Yukimura. "Awake—I'm not too sure about that."

Sanada simply chuckled as Yukimura leaned down and slowly gathered the sleeping black-haired Rikkaidai ace into his arms, managing miraculously not to disturb the fitful sleep the said player was in. He shifted and righted himself, before moving back towards the direction of their rooms, before he paused.

Sanada, who was already walking and was already two steps ahead of his captain, paused and looked back. "Seiichi?"

Yukimura was looking out into the darkened garden past the wide open patio doors, the sea breeze ruffling his dark blue hair. "Is that Ryoga-kun over there?"

Sanada raised an eyebrow, before moving forward and looking out into the gardens. Sure enough, there was Ryoga, slightly leaning his arm against a tree with his other hand holding a phone to his ear. He appeared to be having a heated conversation with whoever he was talking to.

Sanada strained his ears; he was trained with these types of things.

"…serves you right, you bastard! You think I'll fall for—… you can go to hell with that money of yours—I really don't need it," Ryoga growled. He paused for a while as somebody on the other side spoke, but then he suddenly exploded in a fury. "Don't you DARE!!! If you hurt even a _single__hair_ on my brother's head, you're dead meat, Sanchez!!" he roared.

There was another furious pause again.

"Oh, shut up, for fuck's sake—no!! I don't _want_ it, damn it! You can keep it! You and that whore of a _mother_ can keep it!" he yelled, before calming his voice into a deathly whisper. "Look here. I don't fucking know what you're planning, funding the tournament through Dahlia like this. _Yes_, I know that you're the one behind the money—there's no other feasible explanation. And frankly speaking, I don't really fucking care either if this is for the money, or for the fame, or for _whatever fucked up reasoning your fucked up brain can come up with_. But don't you fucking DARE lay a hand on my FAMILY, you godforsaken creature, or else I'll make sure you regret ever crossing the Echizen family's path."

The elder of the Echizen brothers flipped the phone close loudly before tossing it into the woods in anger.

"Genichirou, I think we've heard enough. Let's go—we'll tell Nanjiroh-sensei of this after we deposit Aka-chan in bed," Yukimura ushered, shifting his and Kirihara's weight and walking forward. Sanada nodded and walked after Yukimura, but not without a backwards glance towards the figure out in the dark night.

He wished, though, that he hadn't looked back.

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(R__evised Version)_

* * *

There we go. Much more less tennis action here, and much more do-ra-ma!

Hokay, so I'll be returning to my LJ now. It needs my attention. I'll be starting to write the next chapter tomorrow morning.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 05.23.07  
First Revision Version: __06.02.07_


	28. Step Twenty Seven: Portrait

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

URGENT WARNING TO FANWRITERS AND FANREADERS:

Some bigwig idiots are trying to make money out of our passion, people. Recently, a sit called FanLib (dot com) was launched. It uses fanfiction for PROFIT. Yes, you read that right: fanfiction for PROFIT. MONEY! Have you ever heard of anything more preposterous? Please do NOT support this site; our fanfictions are written out of love, not out of money! This is NOT a hoax. For more information, please go to my profile. There is a link there that will lead you to the page that will explain it all.

**Disclaimer:** ITF HQ mentioned in this chapter is purely fiction, as well as the gang/mafia involved. No ties whatsoever. We're clean.

HOMFG. I just love Kazuki (Atobe Keigo in TeniMyu) and Shirotan (Tezuka Kunimitsu in TeniMyu and CinePuri). I've just finished re-watching Dream Live III, and damn. Shirotan and Kazuki were hot. I just loved that scene where they went "Uchi no kachi da" and argued with each other and—KYAAAAAA—their faces were so close and—KYAAAAAAAAAA—that was so damn hawt!! They just love teasing us, don't they? (-busy fangirling-)

Thank you to the reviewers!!! Ratings rocketed once again! Thank you!

**Dedicated to:** Naa-chan and La-chan, my faithful (slaves) (followers) (minions) daily chatmates. I'm chatting with you guys right now. As promised I haven't written anything until now. It's 28th Monday already, and I haven't written a SINGLE WORD. (And, yes, Tria-chan, none for you.)

**Warning(s):** Erm, **fluff** to compensate for the **angst **that is coming. Lots of unnecessary inserts and scenes just to intensify the fluffiness. **Angst** to satisfy the soul.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Seven: Portrait**  
_(R__evised Version)_

* * *

Ryoma scowled as he looked over the worn but well-maintained court in their American home's backyard. The crashing waves echoed through the entire cliff side area, and the rustling trees made the almost unnoticeable breeze known to the crowd of players currently milling around the house that, until an hour ago, was completely deserted.

"Aah, isn't it nostalgic, Ryoma?" grinned Ryoga.

"My arse," grumbled Ryoma, picking up a ball and throwing it across the court. "This place reminds me of every single damned scratch and injury I got from trying so hard to copy my damned father without _any_ instructions, you know! Nothing but those memories! Nothing!"

Keigo chuckled. "Maa, Ryoma, you were cute when you tried to chase the balls and stumbled and fell."

Ryoma's eyebrow ticked. "Saru-sama, you wanna see if you'll look _cute_ while I make you chase the ball and stumble and fall?!"

"Tsk, tsk, Ryoma," Keigo sighed in mock drama. "Ore-sama is extremely saddened. Whoever taught you the habit of lying?! Do not say things you cannot come up to, Ryoma."

Ryoma hissed aggressively and reached over in lightning speed, running his extended fingers over Keigo's arm in anger, the sharp fingernails scraping over the skin as Keigo watched it in horrific slow motion. Silence swept over the nearby crowd as they waited anxiously for a reaction. Three agonizingly motionless seconds ticked by, before Keigo's arm started reddening and very tiny droplets of blood started appearing over the surface of the otherwise unmarred porcelain skin.

The scratch marks were just like claw marks.

Of cats.

Silence.

"…"

"You…" Keigo growled. "…you dirty earthly being dare harm ore-sama's _flawless_ SKIN?!! You must not be left alive!"

Ryoma yelped as Keigo lunged for him, dodging to the side and making the dubbed Monkey King hit his forehead on the railing. Ryoma giggled, before darting off onto the court and outrunning Keigo. "Catch me if you can!" he laughed in a sing-song voice.

Kevin chuckled as he watched Keigo and Ryoma chase each other around the courts, worry-free and happy. It was an absolute flip from Ryoma's moods the previous night. Kevin shivered at the thought of the youngest Echizen's mood swings. He came last in the Echizen line, but he wasn't in any way lacking of the Echizen gene, nope.

In fact, the youngest seemed to have gotten the biggest load of it.

"They call it 'saving the best for last', Kev," Toushi chuckled beside him, making Kevin look up.

Kevin grinned. "Should I even ask how you read my mind?"

"You'll get the usual answer," shrugged Toushi. Kevin just laughed.

"Why are we here again?" asked Jiroh, yawning as he was disturbed from his sleep by Keigo who bumped against him when the chase started. Ryoma's yelps and Keigo's roars of rage were still echoing in the air. "I wasn't listening."

"We're here because we wanted to see Ryoma and Nanjiroh-sensei's house," Momoshiro replied, only to find Jiroh nodding off again. Eyebrows twitched. "And now I see he _really_ wasn't listening."

"In any case, are you done ogling at our house?" demanded Ryoma, who had stopped running. "Let's get this tour over with, shall we?"

Syuusuke, who was examining the special Ryoma dedication album by the patio, sent a dazzling smile over to Ryoma before pulling out one photo from the pockets, folding it, and slipping it discreetly into his breast pocket. His smile widened as he turned the page. Beside him, Tezuka sent a disapproving glance, but didn't move a finger to stop the tensai.

_Must have been cute, that picture_… thought Keigo. _Cute enough to silence Tezuka even in front of his own subordinate who's doing some stealing…_

"Oi, seishounen has a point, you know," Nanjiroh quipped. "You guys need to re-meet the sponsors today and meet the ITF people as well. So we should get going."

_I wonder if it was that one where Ryoma was dressed as a maid? Or that one as a cat? Or—_

"KEIGO, YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!" roared Nanjiroh, throwing a ball that hit Keigo right on the head. ("Who do you think you are, you filthy earthworm who dares to hurt ore-sama?!")

Nanjiroh cleared his throat and stood up. "All of you follow me to the buses—which by the way have been ready _for an hour and waiting for your arses to finish ogling and dirtying our house_—KIKUMARU, DON'T YOU DARE BREAK THAT OR ELSE RINKO WILL KILL—"

CRASH!

"…oops," Eiji grinned, rubbing the back of his head while Oishi froze in horror. "I broke it."

"—me," moaned Nanjiroh pitifully, shrinking to the floor.

Ryoma snickered devilishly behind his hand. "Oooo. I can see your death now, oyaji."

Nanjiroh, if possible, sank further into the wooden raised floor.

In a silent, covert glance, however, Ryoga's eyes darted towards the necklace that was inside a glass case, displayed beside Rinko's glass collection. The blood red ruby eyes of the dragon-tailed lion twinkled darkly against the morning sun.

Ryoma yawned as he clutched Kunimitsu's torso tightly, snuggling impossibly closer to the warmth. They were currently on the way to ITF's headquarters in a huge bus that was courtesy of Keigo. It was not cold ("Ore-sama stands for perfection. Therefore, ore-sama's surroundings must also stand for perfection. Ore-sama shall not settle for too hot or too cold. Ore-sama wants it perfect.") and his clothes were adequate ("Ore-sama will not have dirty commoners in his presence. Dress reasonably.") but he was desperately seeking Tezuka's warmth.

This was why Ryoma hated places where appearances needed to be kept.

Granted, he had no problems in keeping appearances. In fact, he was very good at it. He was a very good liar and a very good actor, but he still hated it. Why? Because keeping appearances restrained him from doing what he wanted to do and instead dictated that he should do what he needed—which, almost all of the time, was unpleasant. In a few minutes, he would be obliged to pick up his "I-Am-Echizen-Ryoma-and-You-Are-Too-Lowly-A-Being-To-Lay-Your-Eyes-On-Me" mask and cover up his weaknesses—two of which lie greatly within Tezuka and Fuji. And in a few minutes, he knew that Tezuka and Fuji would have to pick up the same masks to keep up _their_ appearances.

It was not a pleasant thing to do, especially during days like these when there was nothing better than a good cuddle in that huge, comfy bed with his two adorable lovers.

He sighed. "Kuni-bu."

"Hmm?"

"Kuni-buuuu."

Tezuka leveled his eyes on Ryoma's half-visible face which was snuggled into his shirt. "Yes, Ryo?"

"…Kuni-buuuuuuu," groused Ryoma, raising his eyes to Tezuka's face and shaping his face into his most pitiful, wide- and teary-eyed pout. "Do we _really_ have to go and tour?"

"We already went through this discussion ten times within the last thirty minutes, Ryoma," Tezuka sighed in exasperation. Ryoma simply frowned and groaned louder, tightening his grip.

Beside them, Fuji chuckled ruefully, exchanging knowing glances with Tezuka as he carefully put away the scissors he used to extract the photo of an eagle gearing for flight. The picture in itself wasn't that remarkable—in fact, it was very ordinary compared to that other picture of an eagle snatching a fish he found the previous night. However, what captured him in that image were the eagle's eyes. Somehow, in some strange way, he saw the same glimmer that seemed to appear in Ryoma's catlike eyes in those sharp eagle eyes.

Determination—the one thing that made Ryoma special above all. (Of course, there were those brilliant golden eyes worth millions and that body that was _simply_ to die for, but that was already granted.)

Fuji smiled as he reminisced the first match he ever had against Ryoma. It was supposed to be a practice match, but of course, as usual, they weren't listening to their coach. Be it under shine or under pouring water, tennis was their passion—tennis was their life.

No one else showed him that as vividly as Ryoma did.

Fuji swept his eyes over the picture again, before smiling and noting one other similarity. With a fond glance over Ryoma, he smiled a true smile.

_Our elegant eagle __is__ still just gearing for flight, indeed._

"Kuni-bu," came Ryoma again, eliciting a tired sigh from Tezuka and a rueful glance from Fuji.

Fuji smiled at the captain. "Maa, it's just for now, Kunimitsu. We'll have to bear with it. He's a bit displeased with the tour—I think it has something to do with how ojii-san woke us up this morning—and he knows that he'll have to keep up appearances later at the headquarters, so I gather he's taking his sweet time hogging us."

For some inane reason, Fuji had recently started boldly calling Nanjiroh "ojii-san", giving all of them the firm statement and warning that Ryoma was his—_theirs_—and that was final. Ryoma blushed and stuttered under the onslaught of suggestive gazes from his fellow players, while Tezuka remained silent and impassive. Nanjiroh erupted in laughter and thumped Fuji and Tezuka both on the back gleefully, a way of welcoming them into the family. Ryoga, though he knew that Ryoma didn't consider him family yet (neither did Fuji and Tezuka), saluted to them playfully as acceptance. Kevin just grinned and leaned into Toushi, who welcomed him wholly.

Tezuka sighed and placed a soft kiss on top of Ryoma's black head. "Just bear with it for today, kitten. I'll give you a special massage tonight instead, okay?"

Ryoma looked up at Tezuka again with an adorably curious face and wide sparkling eyes. "Shiatsu?"

Tezuka nodded.

"Full body?"

"Full body," promised Tezuka firmly.

Slowly, very slowly, Ryoma's face brightened and his eyes lit up in pleasant anticipation. Fuji giggled beside them, leaning over and placing an affectionate kiss on Ryoma's cheek, before nuzzling the younger teen. Ryoma erupted in delighted giggles as Fuji's hair tickled the back of his ear and his neck. Fuji just pulled both Ryoma and Tezuka into an affectionate, three-way cuddle in response.

Up front and nearby, Kevin simply sighed as the sounds of Ryoma's light laughter washed over him, comforting him and assuring him that today, Ryoma was happy. That was what mattered. An arm that was draped around his shoulders coiled tighter, while the hand that was gripping his comfortingly resumed stroking his upturned palm. He smiled gently up at Toushi, who smiled right back down at him and pecked him on the tip of his nose.

Kevin chuckled, snuggling his head back into the crook of Toushi's neck and closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of autumn's crisp cool air—the scent that whispered _Toushi_.

_This is enough._

A few minutes later, though, Kevin found himself standing in front of a place that was very familiar to him by now.

"Right, guys, we're here!" Nanjiroh called over the silently murmuring crowd which was now gathered in front of a cute bungalow house—that was actually an office. It was the reception and welcome center of the ITF's sprawling compound. All around them were houses of differing styles and color tones, and directly across the road from the bungalow house was a five-story building with a huge ITF logo over the entrance. Some athletes were running laps around the compound, while some were walking around and de-stressing. "Now, listen up—"

"_That_ way is the pool, _this_ way are the tennis courts, _that_ way are the lodge houses, _that_ building is the main office, _this _house is the welcome center, _that _way is the recreation center, _that_ way is the infirmary," snapped Ryoma, who was moodily glaring down Nanjiroh. "Done. Can we go home now?"

"No, Cheeky Brat."

Ryoma groaned.

* * *

Four hours, thirty-five tired players, forty-eight sceneries, a hundred and twenty people, and a thousand and forty two camera shots later (courtesy of Fuji), the group sank to their butts in exhaustion, bemoaning the fate of their over-walked feet.

"Aww, come on, you've ran far more than this," Nanjiroh waved dismissively. "Get your asses up—the sponsors will be here in a minute."

"Oh, god, please, not _her_," groaned Ryoma, sinking against the tree he was leaning against. Kevin tossed him a can of Ponta he caught deftly with one hand. He pouted. "Oyaji, please tell me she withdrew from the sponsors."

Nanjiroh gazed down at his son with understanding. "Sadly, no, she didn't as we expected, Ryoma-chan," said the coach, eliciting a loud disappointed groan from the Seigaku freshman. "I understand what you mean, though. Never really liked her even back then," sighed the elder Echizen, taking a gulp of his own canned beverage. "She was too clingy. And too materialistic. And not that pretty, though her body was okay."

"Then why did you sleep with her, baka?!" snapped Ryoma, a vein bulging on his forehead.

"Not like I meant it!" Nanjiroh indignantly exclaimed. "I explained it to you a _million_ times, Ryoma. I was _drunk. _VERY DRUNK. Like, six-tall-bottles-of-gin drunk! Knocked out cold. And besides, I wasn't married to your mother yet back then—heck, I didn't even _know_ her yet—so it was kind of okay."

Ryoma rolled his eyes skyward, before catching sight of an approaching small crowd of well-dressed, affluent-looking elder people. He leveled his eyes and closed off his face, careful not to give away anything. In front of strangers, it was not good to expose. He caught sight once again of the same woman that had been plaguing his worst nightmares, and this time she was wearing a red nightgown that would have looked dashingly deadly on someone else other than his mother.

"Speak of the devil," grumbled Ryoga, who was sitting under the tree beside Ryoma. He rubbed his head. "Damn. She's the last person I want to meet today."

"You've never been lucky, Ryoga," Ryoma blandly stated, not moving from his spot as the sponsors approached even if the other players were all standing up and collecting themselves. He was still not accepting his brother back, but it was troublesome to get into fights every time they saw each other. Wordplay was enough for him right now. "Don't think your chances will change just like that."

"Maa, it's been nine years," Ryoga shrugged as he threw the empty can into the nearby bin. "You'd think I'd deserve even just a one-time break by now."

"_**Nanjiroh**_," greeted the elder man who was wearing an ITF shirt as the sponsors stopped in front of the crowd of players. Ryoma noted in his peripheral vision that some other teams notably from other countries were starting to gather. "_**It's been a while.**_"

"_**Foster**_," Nanjiroh greeted back, shaking the offered hand. The coach showed no signs of recognizing the woman with the sponsors who was now batting her eyelashes at him. "_**Good to see you still alive and kicking, old friend.**_"

The man called Foster smiled amiably, before turning to the sponsors. "_**Mr. Lent, Ms. Rothmann, Mr. Williams, Mr. Atobe, these are the players we scouted from Japan. As you've seen in the selection videos, they're all very talented and they show promise within the tennis community. From what I've heard, they have finished choosing their team for the tournament yesterday, and they will be starting training right away tomorrow.**_"

Tachibana raised his eyebrow as Foster mentioned "Mr. Atobe". He had a suspicion that Keigo's father was involved, but he didn't imagine that they would go so far as to sponsor. He glanced at Keigo, who was smirking his "I-Am-Your-God-So-Bow-Before-Me" smirk as he stood beside his team. He snorted. Then again, Atobes were very stand offish people.

"_**Yes, yes, we've met yesterday**_," nodded Richard Lent, taking a drag from his tobacco. "_**Very charming children they are.**_"

("Ore-sama resents the very idea of being called a _child_!") ("Who the hell y'are callin' a child?!") ("Fsssssh!") ("This guy's wanting some bruises and black eyes.")

"_**Indeed,**_" purred Dahlia. "_**Hello Nanjiroh, Ryoga, Ryoma. My, your names really fit well.**_"

"_**Of course. That's why it was made that way, **_baka," mumbled Ryoma, snorting. Fuji placed a hand on Ryoma's shoulder to hold back the young man. They didn't want another scandal like the previous day. That one had been enough.

"_**It's a great honor for us to meet you**_," Tezuka immediately covered to divert attention from Ryoma and prevent any trouble outbreak. Yukimura, Tachibana, and Atobe caught Tezuka's drift and therefore each took up their respective captain faces. "_**Thank you for giving us a once-in-a-lifetime chance to play in a tournament like this.**_"

"_**Rest assured, we'll do our best to come up to the expectations**_," Yukimura followed Tezuka with his trademark (serial killer) smile.

Tachibana nodded. "_**We'll work hard and make the best of this opportunity. We'll make sure the efforts you made will not go to waste.**_"

Richard and Dahlia raised eyebrows as the captains spoke in smooth, untarnished English. The elderly Mr. Williams, who was a veteran tennis player, billionaire, and one of the pioneers of ITF (information courtesy of Inui) smiled widely and nodded happily.

"_**It's good to see that there are young people who are carrying on the legacy,**_" the elderly man nodded. "_**Tennis is a wonderful sport, and it needs young people like you who will continue the steps we've taken.**_"

Tezuka nodded, taking in the elderly man's words. Inwardly, Ryoma mused how much Tezuka was like an old man almost all of the time. _No wonder they understand each other._

"_**Just remember that whenever you play, you must play with your whole soul and leave no regrets behind**_," Mr. Williams advised sagely. "_**You young lads will probably not understand it right now, but regret is but the last thing you will ever want to carry around even just for a single day. It's a horrible, horrible thing. Yes, worse than losing a game, worse than a broken heart.**_"

"Too true," mumbled Ryoga, who was still hiding under the shades of the tree he was leaning against. He kept his eyes downcast, covered by his bangs. As such, Ryoma couldn't see his half-brother's expression when he looked down at the sitting player. Ryoma frowned thoughtfully, before looking back towards the proceedings. Little notes like these should be filed away for later and kept hidden until there was enough time and enough privacy to ponder properly.

"_**Thank you for the advice, Mr. Williams**_," nodded Keigo. "_**We appreciate it very much.**_"

Mr. Williams nodded happily, before turning to Foster. "_**Ah, Bert, I'm afraid I have to go now. I have an appointment with my therapist.**_"

"_**Ah, yes, of course. Go ahead, Mr. Williams. I'll send the files over later if that's okay?**_"

Williams nodded, before ambling away slowly, his slow but strong and certain steps a testimony to his younger years when he must have been a formidable, principled player. Now, he was naught but an old man indeed, but he was one wizened old man.

The elderly walked away and ended his day with a smile on his face. _Ah. So many promising young people of the new generation continuing what was started long ago. It feels nostalgic, nostalgic indeed…_

"_**In any case, Keigo, there will be a private dinner later in the main mansion tonight**_," said another man who was decked from head to foot with signature Prada, and looked very respectable and righteous compared to Richard or Dahlia. He looked like he had more money and status—but that could be because of the aplomb he was emanating, an aplomb that was oh so similar to Keigo's. "_**Be sure that everyone is ready. The others will also be present.**_"

"_**I understand, father**_," nodded Keigo, much to the surprise of the surrounding players. Even though they couldn't speak as smoothly and fluently as some, they understood to some extent what was being said.

"Atobe's FATHER?!" exclaimed Eiji, losing decorum. At his shout, the entire crowd immediately released the tension. Somehow, Eiji just pulled that effect from them.

"Eiji, shush!"

"But-but—"

However, Ryoma wasn't paying attention to the discussion currently ongoing. As his eyes roamed around the crowd, he spotted a certain familiar necklace adorning the slender neck of the only lady within the crowd. His eyes immediately trained over the silver accessory, noting the _very_ familiar dragon-tailed lion pendant. His eyes narrowed.

"That necklace," muttered Ryoma, frowning deeply and calling the attention of Fuji who was standing just behind him.

"Ryoma-chan?" voiced Fuji.

Ryoma, however, ignored him and stalked over to Keigo hurriedly, tugging at the Hyotei captain's sleeve.

"Yes, what is it, Ryoma?" asked Keigo, ducking out of the center spotlight of the discussions to the corner with Ryoma.

The raven-haired Seigaku player nudged his head slightly over to Dahlia. "See anything familiar?"

Keigo frowned, trying to figure out what Ryoma meant as he scanned Dahlia from head to toe. He raked once—twice—his eyes swerved and widened. "The necklace—!"

Ryoma nodded, eyeing the woman as she tried to insert herself into the conversation ongoing between Richard, Nanjiroh, and Atobe's father Miyagi. "Where did she get it? Oyaji still has the necklace we got from the trees long ago."

Keigo's frown deepened. "Should I look into it?" he asked, knowing that he should ask permission from Ryoma before reopening their past again.

The short, clipped nod was the only answer he needed, before he snapped his finger and one of his bodyguards clad in a head-to-toe black suit outfit stalked towards him stealthily. From where the guards where hiding, nobody knew. It was like Keigo owned a Secret Service of his own, which was not all that far from the truth.

After a few whispered words, the man in black discreetly slipped out of the crowd, unnoticed by anyone except for the overly perceptive ones. Sanada and Tezuka both narrowed their eyes but refrained from commenting, while Fuji's smile simply widened and Yukimura turned his head. Tachibana's eyes swerved sharply to make contact with Keigo, who shook his head in dismissal.

_It's nothing to worry about…_

Ryoma frowned.

…_hopefully._

* * *

Kirihara sighed, wandering away from his group as he eyed the shops lining the road they were currently taking. They were in one of the shopping centers, and though there weren't very many people that day, the stores were all wide open and waiting for their customers like honey attracting bee.

The Rikkaidai ace tore his glance away from one of the stingy store watchers, grimacing.

_More like Venus traps attracting flies._

They were all divided up into groups of choices, some opting to stay with those who could speak English well for fear of getting lost. Poor Tachibana and Shinichi were being hogged by the others for direction, since most of the fluent English speakers were already gone with their own groups.

He walked a few steps forward, sighing deeper as he caught sight of the Seigaku ace—his current self-proclaimed rival in just about anything and everything—gallivanting with his boyfriends in the stores across the roads. The raven-haired boy was ogling at one of the cat toys, apparently thinking of buying it for his precious spotted Himalayan cat (that was probably lazing away and shedding his fur all over the house by now). Fuji and Tezuka, as usual, were spoiling the lad.

He noted, though, that Fuji clutched a huge paper bag marked Canon and Tezuka was carrying a book bag with Barnes and Nobles glossing one side. He sighed. Those three spent far too much money.

_Maa, I guess it's reasonable, since they _have_ far too much money too, what with Echizen's winnings. Fuji-san's not exactly poor either, and neither is Tezuka-san …_

Farther down the road, Keigo's back was visible even from outside the store he was in. The diva, for once, was with his boyfriend and not with Ryoma. He was doing the same thing he did with Ryoma, though—spoiling. This time, though, it was with the sleepyhead Jiroh—who was miraculously up and awake. In the next store to them were Kevin and Toushi, who were having fun on their first "official date", apparently, since both faces were spread wide in ear-to-ear smiles and looked as if they could wish for nothing more.

He was most amused to find, however, that Momoshiro and Kaidoh were together scouting for some good souvenirs and shops. _Momoshiro_ and _Kaidoh_ were _together_.

He snickered.

_So it's really that bad with Kaidoh-san and Inui-san? Man, Renji, you should be ashamed of yourself—you practically broke a relationship!_

"It's not really just his fault, Aka-chan," smiled Yukimura from behind him, placing what would seem a brotherly arm around his shoulders. "It's partly Inui-san's fault too, for not being sensitive and disregarding the relationship. And also partly Kaidoh-kun's fault for not voicing his feelings and thoughts to his partner. Communication is very vital in a relationship. Look where the lack of it led Syuusuke-kun and Tezuka-san and Ryoma-kun."

"But they managed to fix it," Kirihara reasoned.

"Yes, well, there were lots of people pushing them and helping them. Practically everybody was onto them. Kevin was there, Atobe-san was there, even _we_ were there," replied Yukimura. "We were there because we knew how difficult it is to hold together a relationship of _three._ But right now, Kaidoh-kun only has Momoshiro-kun, and Inui-san has no one prodding him along. I admit he has to learn how to fend without somebody there prodding him along, but right now he's far too oblivious to notice that there's even something wrong. And his obliviousness is partly Renji's fault for being there and distracting his attention almost completely."

Kirihara sighed, before turning his eyes away from the unusual pair. "It's just hard to imagine them together not fighting."

Sanada chuckled dryly. "Who ever said they aren't fighting?"

And true enough, they _were_ fighting.

"This one's _waaaaay _better than that one, mamushi!" snapped Momoshiro heatedly, a tennis shoe in hand.

"Are you stupid, peach butt?! This one has firmer grip!"

"But this one is more comfortable to the soles than that one!"

"Fssssh! This one's comfortable too, just not as much! But it has better grip!"

"Why are you insisting so much about the grip anyways?! It's not like you're gonna slip with every step you take!"

"Better to be safe than sorry, ass!"

"Who's an ass, you bastard—"

Kirihara face faulted. "Sou ne…" he chuckled dryly, before turning his eyes on the next store. "Are we even going to buy anything, Gen-chan?"

"Akaya, you're the only one who hasn't bought anything yet," pointed out Sanada, lifting the two white paper bags he was carrying. "We already bought some stuff."

Kirihara stared.

Very, very slowly, his face morphed into a pout, his bottom lip protruding and his eyes growing watery. His shoulders slumped, signaling the start of the "Spoil-Me" mode.

"Sei-chan?" Kirihara asked with a sulking sort of expectancy and a begging glint in his big, wide eyes.

Yukimura smiled in delight, obviously thinking that the look was _very_ adorable, and that the idea of Sanada suffering under their shopping spree was _very_ amusing. Immediately, the Rikkaidai captain took Kirihara's hand and led him to the shops. "What would you like, Aka-chan? Sei-chan will buy it for you. Anything you want."

Behind them, Sanada placed his forehead in his palm, sighing. _Why did I ever put myself as the sitter for a potential psychopath and an incurably precocious __overgrown __baby?_

* * *

Keigo sighed as one of the maids hurried away after asking him what shade of clean white he would like to use for the napkins. Inwardly, he asked himself if there was any other shade of clean white. Wait a second. He already _did_ say what shade it was! _Clean_ white!

He growled and slapped his forehead, adding another task to his to-do list after the party: review the entire maid list and kick out brainless, bumbling idiots. He was reminded of that disaster a few days ago when one of the new maids blew up the entire dinner course and forced them to wait an hour more than the norm for the dinner to be remade and served. Oh, he _definitely_ had some words of _wisdom_ to impart to that hiring agency.

He turned towards the vanity again and raked his eyes over his own image in satisfaction, before adjusting his signature Tag Heuer watch and striding smoothly out of the room. The ballroom was ready, and they were just waiting for the guests. As he passed Ryoma's room, however, he paused and smirked.

Three steps was enough to scale the distance between him and the prim white door. He raised his fist and knocked.

There was scuffling inside, before a gruff, apparently annoyed Ryoma, half-dressed and harassed-looking, opened the door.

"Oh Ryoma, darling, it's your most favorite person in the—"

SLAM.

Keigo blinked as the wooden panel stopped an inch from his nose. He sighed. Ryoma's rudeness just wasn't curable. It was the Echizen gene, yes, it was.

He fished a master key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, turning and pushing the door open. "Come on, Ryoma, that's not nice."

"Damn you, saru-chama," whined Ryoma as one of the make-up people fussed over Ryoma. "I hate you."

"And I love you too, Ryoma," smirked Keigo, sweeping his eyes over Ryoma's face in satisfaction. He nodded to the make-up artists. "Make it quick, okay? Everyone needs to be in time. And careful with the silk—that's straight from China! Wild silk is very expensive!"

"Then why the hell did you have to—""

"Because you look pretty in it, darling, as usual. My, you've grown into such a beautiful young man," Keigo's head make-up artist cooed, leaning over Ryoma. The gay designer fluttered his artificially elongated eyelashes surreptitiously before going back to her work. Ryoma rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Exactly," Keigo nodded. "I will be proceeding to the ballroom, now. Ryoma, don't be late. And don't you dare hide."

A long, drawn whine erupted from Ryoma, who was trapped by the huge vanity that had suddenly popped up like a mushroom inside the otherwise very manly room. Keigo smiled and ignored the whine, sending a wink over to the younger player. "Take it like a man, Ryoma," he grinned, before slipping out the door. "Pun intended."

As he turned in the corridor, however, he met two very curious, very demanding Seigaku players.

"And exactly what is this, Atobe?" demanded Tezuka.

"If you've done anything to Ryoma—" Fuji began in warning, ice blue eyes opening and narrowing.

"No, no, you're getting it wrong," Keigo chuckled, waving his hand dismissively, before moving behind the two players. "Ryoma's still preparing. Come. Let us not make the guests wait, shall we?"

"_Atobe_," hissed Fuji, who refused to budge from his spot even when Keigo tried to gently push them down the corridor.

"I assure you, Fuji, you will be _very_ pleased with what Ryoma will look like later," he assured soothingly. "He will be a sight for sore eyes—which I'm sure you'll get because of some of my _damned _relatives who will be attending. He's in safe, familiar hands. Trust me on this."

Fuji and Tezuka both reluctantly shot wary looks at each other, before Tezuka shrugged and they moved down the corridor slowly with the diva, who ushered them away from Ryoma's room doors.

"Also, please try your best to restrain Ryoma from shredding that Dahlia woman into pieces, will you?" Keigo continued. "I won't be able to stand by him all the time tonight—some other relatives are coming, and as you know, appearances must be kept."

"Aa, I understand," nodded Tezuka as they moved briskly down the halls.

"And let me warn you: beware of Davinia Lent," Keigo warned darkly. "The slut will no doubt try and whore herself off anyone she sees."

"Lent?" echoed Fuji. "Any relationship to Richard Lent?"

"Yes, she's the heiress and daughter to the second wife Delilah," nodded Keigo, sighing. "An utter bumbling idiotic whore completely unworthy of ore-sama's presence."

Fuji snorted. _Honestly, within your standards, just about _anybody_ is too lowly to be worthy of your—"ever-astounding", was it?—presence!_

"Second wife?" echoed Tezuka, before nodding to Yukimura, Sanada, Kirihara, Kevin, Toushi and Jiroh, who joined them from another hallway as they turned. They were all dressed in prim, elegant suits—courtesy of Keigo, of course ("Be awed at ore-sama's generosity!")—for the semi-formal dinner. Keigo was insisting on tuxedos, but his idea was immediately sealed off by Nanjiroh, who, for some reason, hated tuxedos.

"Yes, second wife," nodded Keigo as he pulled Jiroh close and adjusted the sleepyhead's tie while maintaining his stride. "His first wife, beautiful Sayo-obaa-san, died in an accident in Seattle. They had a two-year-old son back then, but around a year or so before Sayo-obaa-san died, the boy died in a kidnapping incident. Not very uncommon in our circles, let me tell you."

"…they couldn't do anything about it?" asked Yukimura after a stretch of momentary silence.

"The events aren't as clear to me because I was a child back then, and some information is still being withheld from me right now," Keigo sighed. "But both father and I suspect with some pretty solid basis that something happened—something that was orchestrated—and that the boy wasn't killed in that kidnapping incident."

"Wait, wasn't the body retrieved…?" asked Kirihara curiously.

"Bomb," Keigo said simply, the one word summing up everything that needed to be explained.

Toushi, however, was frowning deeply after the story.

* * *

Tezuka's eyes slowly and carefully swept over the extensive book collection lining the wall of one of the mini-lounges connected to the ballroom. These small rooms were designed to grant the guests of the ballroom temporary privacy and breathing room, and had two doorways—one leading back to the ballroom, and one leading back out to the gardens. A few minutes prior, he'd slipped out of the ballroom and away from the milling guests, aiming to get a few deep breaths to recompose himself and rest.

How lucky he was to chance on this particular lounge—the lounge that had the most collection of books. (He knew that it would be very irresponsible of him to just sit here through the night, but he was still sorely tempted to do so.)

He reached out and was about to remove a book from the shelf when the door behind him slowly creaked open and in came a young lady in a very suggestive red dress. The neckline, Tezuka noticed, dipped way beyond what was decent, and the skirt slit, he also noticed, sliced way beyond what should be legal.

He sighed.

It was an actual plus that he wasn't attracted to the opposite sex as much as he was with the same sex. (Who needed girls when there was Fuji?)

"_**Oh!**_" the lady gasped in surprise as she turned, before smiling coyly. "_**I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude—I thought there was nobody in here.**_"

"_**No, ma'am, it's okay,**_" Tezuka amended. "_**I don't really mind.**_"

"_**I'm Davinia Lent. It's a pleasure to meet you,**_" she said as she pushed back her auburn hair from her dull blue eyes.

"_**Kunimitsu Tezuka,**_ _**how do you do?**_" Tezuka automatically replied, being the gentleman he was even if he recognized the name that was earlier mentioned by Keigo.

The lady smiled in what was supposed to be a charming way. "_**Don't you have anyone to be with tonight?**_"

"_**As a matter of fact, he does**_," came another voice from the opposite doorway that was leading to the garden.

Tezuka turned, only to find—

"Kitten…?" he breathed, the air rushing out of him in one straight whoosh. He slowly ran his eyes over the ethereal being that was in front of him.

He took in the half-lidded sensuous kohl-lined eyes and those full and painted glossy lips. The kimono was one of those silk ones that dipped low and exposed a generous amount of fair porcelain skin around the collarbone and neck area. The healthy skin glowed an intimate tan that made him want to slide his hands against it. The green-tinged raven hair was somehow longer tonight, drawn back and pinned up at the back with beautiful emerald combs, some of the strands framing the small face and hanging down to accentuate the sensual feel.

Tezuka's eyes slid over to Ryoma's exposed thigh as the lad strutted like a cat towards them. He soundlessly gulped, unconscious of Davinia, whose jaw was wide open and gaping.

"Kuni-bu… konbanwa," Ryoma breathily spoke, smiling a very sensual smile. _This ridiculous outfit paid out after all._

Tezuka, on the other hand, was a total loss for words. "Is that…"

Ryoma smirked that 'come-hither' smirk of his. "Completely traditional."

As the raven-haired Seigaku player approached his captain, he reached out—the kimono's sleeve slid to reveal more of his pale skin—and coiled his arm around Tezuka's head. He slowly guided Tezuka down and leaned up, capturing the captain's lips in a slow, heady, sensuous kiss.

By the gardens, a chuckling Keigo watched, still unnoticed.

Ryoma broke off with a flick of his tongue, and licked his glossed lips lusciously like cat licking cream. He smiled a wicked smile up at Tezuka, who was still incoherent.

Davinia, who was by now blushing, recovered her ire. "_**Who are you?!**_" she very rudely demanded, only to be ignored.

Fuji emerged from where he was hiding by the garden doorway. He had been searching for Ryoma, and caught a slither of his precious pet earlier as the said Seigaku ace slipped into the gardens. He slid towards Ryoma, before holding him at arm's length and examined him.

Raising Ryoma's chin tenderly with a single elegant finger, he said in a very impressed, breathy voice, "Hmm… neko-chan looks absolutely delectable." He leaned closer and nuzzled Ryoma's exposed neck with a purr.

"Syuusuke…" sighed Ryoma, leaning his head backwards and exposing more of his neck.

"Maa, I ought to thank Atobe for this one," Fuji smiled, placing soft, featherlike kisses all over Ryoma's jaw.

However, the moment was shattered when Tezuka gripped Ryoma's arm tightly and tugged the younger boy out of the room, making a detour towards their chambers and carefully avoiding the ballroom by going through the garden. He ignored the protests Ryoma was spouting as the boy struggled to keep up and lift his wild silk kimono to prevent grass stains.

"I'm not letting you out there dressed like _that_, Ryoma," growled Tezuka.

"K-Kuni-bu!"

Fuji chuckled as he was left behind. He made a move to follow as the two disappeared into the gardens, before he noticed Davinia. "Ara?" Fuji smiled that trademark (serial killer) smile that the girl couldn't discern from the usual nice-guy smile since she was not familiar with the tensai. "_**You have to forgive Tezuka. He's a tad bit too overprotective when it comes to our little kitten. Can't say I'm not the same, though. Well, see you around, then.**_"

He waved an absent hand, before briskly leaving the gaping girl behind.

* * *

Formal dinner, ever since history, had always been a tight and uncomfortable affair. Formality had to be observed, and respect had to be paid to everyone. Words had to be watched, and actions measured. Everything was meticulously delicate and tiring.

But formal dinner within the Atobe family was even a _tighter_ affair.

Why?

Like so:

"_**Why, it's been such a long time since we've had a dinner with the whole family like this**_," Verna remarked with a shark smile, leaning forward and exposing her already over-exposed front.

"_**Indeed**_," nodded one of the far cousins. The table was long and huge, but in some strange way, everyone could hear everybody speaking. "_**It's been three years**_."

"_**Hmm**_," Richard hummed as he sipped on his wine. "_**Has it been so long that the **_**traditions **_**have been forgotten? Where are the portraits? They should be adorning the walls.**_"

"_**They are on the walls, **_**Uncle**_**, just under the curtains right now. They will be drawn later for viewing**_," Keigo replied promptly. "_**But I'll have to agree that some traditions are indeed being forgotten**_."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "_**Such as?**_"

"_**Such as keeping out people who should not belong in formal family dinners,**_" Miyagi, Keigo's father, supplied. The elderly Atobe turned a sharp eye towards Richard. "_**Rest assured, Richard, I'm only tolerating you and…**_" he paused, sniffing condescendingly, so much like Keigo did it that Eiji shivered. "_**…your**_** family**_**… to respect our common dead father and Sayo.**_"

Richard's eyes narrowed and he sneered, _**"You're only where you are because of our father, not because of your own hard work, Miyagi."**_

Miyagi's mastered, patented Atobe Sneer, however, ousted Richard's measly sneer. _**"At least,"**_ he began, placing his wineglass down and leaning forward challengingly from the head of the table. _**"He knew which one of us was suitable to be his real heir. Unlike **_**you**_**, Richard."**_

Richard scowled. _**"And exactly what might you be talking about?"**_

Keigo daintily started cutting up a piece of his steak into bite-size pieces. Without looking up, he continued his father's tirade. _**"I've heard you had a son you surrendered to kidnappers. Didn't you make room too early for your new heir—oh wait, I forgot, pardon me," **_chuckled Keigo, pausing. _**"**_**She**_** cannot handle your business," **_Keigo remarked, before turning towards Davinia, who glared at him. He simply sent back a sweet, taunting 'outdo-me-if-you-can' smile. _**"And it i**_**s **_**quite hard to… **_**sell off**_**… that kind of girl to other families…"**_

"_**Insolent child, take that back!"**_ hissed Delilah protectively. _**"As we've suspected, you are as well-mannered as a street rat!"**_

"_**Please, Delilah,"**_ Yukiko, Keigo's mother, calmly amended with a level, cold voice. She dabbed her lips with the napkin silently. _**"Let's not bring this discussion into that. We all know who will lose in an argument within that subject matter. We raised Keigo in the best way possible—"**_

("You might have overdone it a little bit on the ego-boosting, Yuki-baa-san," Ryoma muttered off on his seat, before being nudged by Kevin beside him. Toushi was, strangely enough, preoccupied that evening.)

"—_**and we are confident that he will be able to walk the right path when the time comes,"**_ Yukiko stated. _**"**__**W**__**e **_**also **_**know that he can stand for himself and for the family as a reliable head of house."**_

That statement cracked like a whip over the entire family. The main line's heir was dictated at birth, but it was never announced publicly in front of the whole family unless it was completely certain and permanent. This was like a declaration that Keigo was a shoe-in for the next head of the Atobe family.

Keigo smiled._** "Thank you, mother."**_

"_**You're very welcome, darling,"**_ smiled Yukiko warmly.

"_**In any case,"**_ Keigo continued, returning his eyes upon Richard. _**"Tell me, is your **_**daughter **_**more suitable than Sayo-obaa-san's son? Is she worth more than the son you've left to the kidnappers to die? Because I'm really curious, you know. Ryuuka-san tells me that Yusuke was a very nice child; smart and intuitive. And I'm pretty sure that with your connections, you would've managed to do something about the kidnapping issue. Was it all staged?"**_

Richard frowned_**. "Honestly. Why would I let my child be killed?!"**_

"_**Oh, I don't know,"**_ shrugged Keigo. _**"You tell me."**_

"_**Oh, this reminds me,"**_ Yukiko inserted, raising her hand and beckoning one of the maids closer. _**"Can you please draw the curtains for Sayo-chan's portrait? I found one particularly beautiful image of Yusuke and Sayo in the old galleries in one of the smaller penthouses this morning. I asked the maids to replace the one you choice with that one, Keigo."**_

"_**Really," **_Keigo said, raising an eyebrow. _**"Well, let's see, then."**_

The maids drew a pair of tasseled ropes hanging down, revealing the portrait of a beautiful woman with long silvery white hair much like Toushi's. Her hair was done up in an elegant bun, the tail cascading down and splaying across her back. Her eyes were a tantalizing sky blue, and were trained on the sleeping brown-haired infant she was carrying in her arms.

There was silence for a few seconds as scores of eyes examined the portrait.

"_**How strange,"**_ Keigo frowned. _**"From this point of view, her face seems different than how I've usually seen it. It seems somehow…"**_

"Toushi? Daijoubu?" Kevin voiced slightly, calling the attention of the others nearby. "What's wrong?"

Toushi was staring up at the portrait, shell-shocked and speechless.

"Toushi," Kevin called. "You alright?"

"Syuu-chan, you too?" Ryoma stated disbelievingly as Fuji stared at the portrait frozenly.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka called.

Keigo shot glances at Toushi and Fuji in bewilderment, before his eyes caught something and he paused. He snatched a glance back at Sayo.

…_somehow familiar!_

Keigo was about to open his mouth and say something, when Toushi spoke, still staring up at the portrait.

"…_**mother?"**_

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(R__evised Version)_

* * *

I know, we're late on updates AND _very late on revisions_.

Sorry about this late update. Again.

I was inspired, yes, but for some reason, the words wouldn't flow, no matter how long I sat in front of the laptop.

In any case, more of the mystery revealed.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 05.30.07  
First Revision Version: 06.09.07_


	29. Step Twenty Eight: Growing Pains

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

…you people suck at guessing games, huh. Only ONE PERSON—and you will know who you are when I reveal some more clues—figured out the real Fuji intrigue plot with the first clues I gave in the previous chapter. Out of HUNDREDS of readers, only ONE PERSON. (Well, at least out of the reviewers. I don't know about those who read but ignore the review button.) I mean, you all focused on the wrong—aaargh! Too much info! I'll shut up now.

Oh yea, this update is LATE. AGAIN. (sigh) Summer term's up, and my math professor seems to love bogging us down with a huge pile of homework everyday. Honto ni gomen, ne. (But I just KNOW that you'll forget the fact that this is a late update and be caught with one of our special scenes in this chapter!!)

**ANNOUNCEMENT:** Kia-chan will be launching a NEW STORY in PoT after One Step finishes—which is soon! The titles and other details are still under construction for now, but one thing that is certain is that it was inspired by this story—particularly one scene in this chapter! Tria-chan will also be returning with Kia-chan to co-author and beta-read this new story! We hope you follow us all the way through this one and the next one as well!

**Minor changes to update schedule** will be observed from now on. We will **update weekly, but with no fixed day**. The fixed Tuesdays make it hard for us when we have busy Mondays—which is now common.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Dedicated to:** Para sa aking minamahal nakababatang internet kapatid—(wow, Tagalog na Tagalog)—na si Tola. Hayaan mo, maiintindihan mo din yung plot pagdating ng mga clues. It's just a matter of time, dear. Wag nang magsunog ng kilay.

**Warning(s): **…angst?

**PS from Aventria:** (also take as a warning of sorts if you wish) I'm really, extremely sorry for the crack. Inspiration stroke and was in crack-ish mood so… well… (sheepish) In summary, pardon the crack. Ah yes, in addition, Kia and I had agreed to still update weekly but not have a particular day to update due to our conflicting schedules and stress (amongst others).

* * *

**Step Twenty-Eight: Growing Pains**  
_(Revised__ Version)_

* * *

Silence washed over the crowd.

"…were my ears failing me, or did I hear you say 'mother'?" Kevin asked hurriedly in Japanese. If Toushi was connected someway to someone in the Atobe family through the Lents, it was dangerous. _This_ was dangerous. Kevin knew from Ryoma who heard it from Keigo that the Lent side of the family—the unwanted side—had hidden but explicit ties with cartels and mafia.

Toushi turned to him blankly, before shaking his head in negation. Kevin's forehead crumpled in thought, before he sent a glance to Keigo. The Atobe heir, the smart being that he was, immediately diverted the conversation to cover up Toushi. However, the damage was done. Richard was already staring at Toushi with a strange expression on his face—it was a mix of sadness, anger, regret, pain, and curiosity. But over all, it was a look of utter and complete confusion.

The dinner passed by as a blur for Toushi, who was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to actually care about his food, or about the people around him who were milling with unspoken questions. Kevin was loyally standing beside him through the dinner, and as soon as everybody was back up on their own feet again, he immediately guided Toushi out of the ballroom, leaving the other players behind.

"You know you'll have to explain a lot later, Toushi," Kevin silently muttered to him as they disappeared behind the huge oak doors that opened to the ballroom. "We most definitely heard you say it."

There was a tangible silence between the two of them as they walked down the corridors towards their own room. The silky blue moonlight filtered through the clouds and into the wide-open ceiling-to-floor windows, bathing the halls with a wispy silver glow.

Toushi's lips moved ever so slightly, whispering almost inaudible words.

"…they have to explain a lot too."

* * *

Richard Lent was a proud man with nothing to be proud of.

Anyone who has met him would know this fact by instinct. Even he knew it within himself, and somewhere deep inside he knew he acknowledged it too, no matter how grudgingly. People kept telling people that things like these could be changed, but he believed that in his case, it's not possible. What did they know anyways? What did they know about what he wanted, what he needed? About where he came from and where he wanted to be, about what he saw and what he wanted to see—it was all about him and his wants.

And no one else knew himself better than he did.

He was one of those people who found justice in what they did, and did not need overly gigantic reasons to do things. He was one of those people who valued money and fame. He was one of those people who loved winning and would go through any means to do so. He was one of those people whom others would call 'dirty'.

But he didn't mind that, no.

As long as he had everything he wanted.

But of course, life wasn't paradise. There was no way he could get _everything_ he wanted.

Which was aggravating, like the problem he was facing right now.

For someone like him who owned quite a respectable fortune and had assets to take care of, not having a competent heir was disastrous, not to mention embarrassing. He had two wives, for shit's sake! Well, in reality, he only had one, as per what was legal (not that he gave a shit about that; he just wanted to keep his appearances clean). But he had a previous wife—a beautiful one, kind and caring, the perfect mother and wife.

And she bore him a son.

But that boy was… well, the boy had _one little flaw_ that cost him his life.

Or did it?

Richard frowned as the car pulled out of the manor's driveway and swerved onto the main road leading back to the freeway. Recalling the events earlier at dinner, he found himself miraculously not focusing and fuming on that presumptuous Keigo's comments, but on a certain white-haired player.

He heard it with his own ears, no mistake. The boy said "mother" upon seeing Sayo.

He frowned.

_Is he mine? Impossible. My son is supposed to be dead._

* * *

He pressed the red button on the speaker. "Turn to I-75. I want to drop by at the Northern Branch," he gruffly spoke, before releasing the button and moving backwards. He rested his back against the leather-covered black seats, releasing a stream of breath. He reached over to the limousine's small fridge, pulling out a bottle of Scotch and unscrewing the cap.

_Yusuke is dead. I made _sure_ he was._

"Well? Feel ready enough to explain yet?" prodded Keigo, sitting back down against the squashy red sofa beside Toushi and Kevin's now shared bed as he took a sip of his vanilla Scotch.

Kevin was settled in the middle of the bed and huddled with Toushi, while Ryoma was with Fuji and Tezuka—who were privileged guests, as usual, because of Ryoma—on the green loveseat. The young Echizen was being as snarky as ever because of his apparent frustration at being deprived of his after-dinner sex that was non-verbally promised earlier by both Tezuka and Fuji. Fortunately, he was tactful enough not to pour his frustration on Toushi.

Unfortunately for Keigo, however, he now became the prime target for the snark overload.

"Saru-chama, make this quick or else I'll fucking pin your bared arse with a monkey's tail and put you up for piñata!" snapped Ryoma as he adjusted his silk robe around himself and snuggled closer to his lovers for warmth.

The residents of the room couldn't resist snickering—even the downtrodden Toushi—at the mental image Ryoma's insult brought up, while Keigo's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"If the brat would shut up, we would continue. The sooner we continue, the sooner we finish; the sooner we finish, the sooner we all get _laid_," sniffed Keigo, avoiding the piñata comment. Just then, Nanjiroh slipped into the room silently, grinning at them and motioning for them to continue.

"It's still my business to know if there are things troubling my precious charges," reasoned Nanjiroh.

Keigo simply nodded in response, before turning to Toushi. "Well?" he prompted expectantly, receiving a warning glare from Kevin.

"…where should I start?" Toushi sighed.

"Well, let's start on how you know Sayo-obaa-san, for instance. I don't recall anyone mentioning you to me. I don't recall you from my childhood. Heck, my butler doesn't even recall you!" gave Keigo.

Toushi looked up at them contemplatively, before returning his gaze on the silk sheets. He rubbed his head, ruffling his freshly washed hair.

"I grew up with my dad," started Toushi after taking a deep breath. "He stood as both my father and my mother, and I knew that he loved me very much for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I remember him trying to explain to me why I didn't have a mother like all the other kids out there whenever I asked. He never lied to me; he told me even back then that he and my mother weren't married, and that there was a no chance of me being able to see her again. He even mentioned that she was sick about some kind of disease before she died."

"Wait, wait," Keigo frowned. "Sayo-obaa-san wasn't sick. She was healthy when she died of an accident in Seattle."

"He's not finished yet, you bad, rude, monkey king!" reprimanded Ryoma in that common tone that parents used for naughty little monke—erm, boys.

Keigo gritted his teeth and curled his fist, eyebrow twitching, before relenting and silencing himself to let Toushi continue.

Toushi chuckled faintly, before continuing. "As I said, my father didn't lie to me. He told me that he loved me very much even though I wasn't born under wedlock, and that he loved my mother very much too. 'Circumstances just weren't right', he used to say. So I accepted that as I grew up. But see, my dad was a photographer, and he said one of the points he loved about my mom was her photogenic nature. So he had lots and lots of albums of her photos at home, and of course, he let me see them. I know my mother by name and face—but I don't know _her_. She was Shimizu Sayo. She was a proud, beautiful creature, my dad said."

"I just assumed that when you were saying 'Sayo-obaa-san', you were talking about some other person. Sayo IS a common name, after all, and the chances of my mom being connected to your family was like one in a million," snorted Toushi.

"Well, jackpot, Toushi, you're lucky," Kevin chuckled.

"Sou ne," smiled Toushi, before sighing solemnly. "I didn't even know how she…"

"…died?" prompted Keigo. The diva sighed. "She died approximately 16 years ago—almost 17, reportedly in a car accident. A very rainy day in Seattle can be a very deadly one. That should be just about the time you were born. Your birthday?"

"25th of August 1990," Toushi promptly answered.

Keigo's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "That's her date of death."

Toushi shrugged. "She's the one in the pictures. Her name matches, right? Shimizu."

Keigo nodded again, before taking the wallet-size picture Toushi handed to him. It _was_ Sayo, framed against a familiar backdrop—their backyard. "Actually, it's Lent-Shimizu Sayo. She decided to keep her maiden name, for some reason. Maids rumor she didn't really love our oh-so-sweet Uncle Richard. No surprise there. I've heard some rumors of abuse—but I'm not too sure about that. Uncle Richard seemed to have liked her lots, and showed off her beauty to his cohorts. What I'm curious is about their _son_. The _first_ one, because obviously you're not him."

"Who's supposed to be _dead_," added Kevin.

"The one thing that ensures Toushi's not Yusuke is the ages," pointed out Keigo. "If I remember correctly, Yusuke—her first son—was killed in that kidnap thing when he was two, about a few days Sayo-obaa-san died in the accident. If Toushi's birth date is the same day as Sayo-obaa-san's death date, then Yusuke is—"

"—older than Toushi," Kevin finished for Keigo silently. "Which means you have a _brother_. A _dead_ one."

"Not so sure about that," chortled Keigo, drawing curiosity for Toushi. "But we'll discuss that for another day. Right now, I only have suspicions—no truths."

"Useless monkeys should be disposed of," drawled Ryoma, pulling away from the heated kiss he and Fuji had been sharing for the last few minutes they'd been talking, and licking his lips lusciously like a cat licking cream. "Syuu-chan, hug me?" he looked up cutely at Fuji, wide eyes begging and lower lip protruding.

Fuji chuckled, pulling the smaller teen into his arms gently. He let the smaller form snuggle and fit itself against himself, the black head comfortably tucked into the crook of his neck and the body supported by his arms and borne on his lap.

Keigo simply rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'spoiled brat' under his breath.

"In any case," Nanjiroh sighed after having listened silently to the story, standing up and staring at Toushi. "You, young man, will be coming with me and eating a light snack in the kitchen. You haven't eaten a bite, kid. We have training tomorrow—I don't want you dying on us. Now, come, come!"

"Aren't you… curious about how my dad—"

"—met your mom?" finished Keigo, examining his nails closely and noting that he needed to fire the current nail technician because his finger hurt like hell. "We don't really care, and it doesn't really matter. Affairs are present left and right. No surprise for Sayo-obaa-san, what with how that scum Richard was treating him. I'm just glad she got to be happy even for a while with your father—whoever he is—and with Yusuke."

Toushi bowed his head, nodding slowly, before standing and ambling after Nanjiroh, who was beckoning him forth.

"You need me to come with you, Tou?" asked Kevin, still not letting go of Toushi's hand.

Toushi smiled. "Nah, it's okay. Maybe I need some alone time to think too, you know."

Kevin nodded in understanding, watching the two exit the room and close the door. He sighed, turning to the others. "So, Fuji, haven't you got anything to say?" he asked.

"Huh?" Fuji unintelligibly replied, too preoccupied with his pet that was currently licking light dry trails along the side of his neck with a very sensual tongue.

Kevin rolled his eyes, picking up a pillow and chucking it at Ryoma. He marveled at how much less hurt he was feeling under the situation that would normally have had him running out of the room to prevent embarrassing himself.

"Ow!!"

"Will you stop that for a moment, Ryo? You can both get laid later," sniffed Kevin, before turning back to Fuji. "You were staring at the portrait earlier too. What's with you?"

All of them silenced—even the sniffling Ryoma—and lifted their eyes to rest expectantly upon Fuji. The tensai chuckled, waving it off dismissively. "Don't worry, I don't think I have connections," Fuji said, faintly noticing Keigo's strange sharpened gaze but putting it off as their common spite. "I don't even know the lady. I just recognized the photographer's signature. Let's just say he's… someone I know."

Keigo looked up in surprise. "You know Ryuuka-san?"

Fuji chuckled, leaning down and placing a kiss on a purring Ryoma's nose. "He was my mentor in photography. He was the one who sparked my interest in the field, actually. We met in one of my uncle's place in France when my uncle commissioned him for a photo shoot for my uncle's musical business advertisement."

"Well, there's a surprise," remarked Keigo with his eyebrows drawn up high. "Him and his son; both rarely ever surface. Surprising that he's camera shy, considering he works with them. Media flocks him whenever he goes out because of his impressive artistry."

"Oooh, so _that's_ where Syuu-chan learned," Ryoma grinned. "Because my Syuu-chan is so _good_."

"Thank you, Ryoma-chan," smiled Fuji.

"In any case, I still think they're hiding from something… or someone," Keigo sighed, plucking one of the small bars of Belgian chocolate by the bedside table.

"Hiding?" echoed Tezuka, adjusting himself as Ryoma now turned to him for cuddling. He pulled the younger player on his lap, forcing himself to ignore the patch of skin the robe revealed when it rode up as Ryoma shifted into his lap. Ryoma's thighs clamped around his lower waist loosely as the lad pulled himself up and snuggled his head into Tezuka's neck, much the same way he did with Fuji. He threaded his fingers into Ryoma's hair, kneading his finger pads against the scalp in relaxing circles. Ryoma purred very loudly.

Keigo nodded in reply. "I haven't even seen his son yet, and I've known him all my life," Keigo reasoned. "Surely the media doesn't want _him_ as much as they want _me_."

"Trust me, Keigo, the media _loves_ you to bits," snorted Kevin, pulling out a pack of special peanut butter pocky from the bedside drawer, along with a complete deck of Tarot cards. "Anyone up for Tarot reading? I solemnly swear that I'll mess up your future."

He grinned.

* * *

"This way, this way," led Nanjiroh, humming cheerfully to himself and grinning like an idiot as they made their way down the wide well-worn cobbled walkway that led to the ITF courts. It was finally the introduction day, a day after the dinner with the Atobe family. The whole group was following him, since they were all students under ITF right now even thought they had yet to attend their first classes. However, there were a select few who were standing out.

Team Japan was wearing orange-and-red themed jerseys according to the color coding ITF did for the teams, clothes courtesy of Keigo as usual ("Be awed be ore-sama's generosity." "Yes, saru-chama, we're awed by your generous ego just fine."). The jackets were white in base and had twin red and orange lines running down the arms' sides. The collars and the hems and the zippers were colored twin orange-reds as well. The back had 'JAPAN' outlined clearly on the back in the same colors. The pants were in white as well, with orange-red lines running on the sides.

The shirt underneath, however, had a more intricate design.

"Really, Keigo, you had to make me pose for an _hour_ for _this_?!" Ryoma sighed in outrage, plucking disdainfully at his shirt. He could still feel his legs aching from the effort to keep still. "And your photographer sucked. Honestly."

"Ah, come now, Ryoma-chan," smiled Fuji, though for once, the tensai was keeping a reasonable distance between them (most probably to maintain propriety). "I find it rather nice to have the shirts remind me of you."

Ryoma pouted. "Are you saying that unless you see the shirt, you don't think of me?"

Fuji chuckled and placed a hand on the boy's head to placate him—for now. (Everyone knew Fuji was extravagant when it came to Ryoma, and apologies were no exceptions.) "Of _course_ not, Ryoma-chan. You know I'm very _very_ fond of you!"

"Hmmm…" Ryoma smiled contemplatively, before looking back at the shirt.

It _did_ have Ryoma. His outlined figure against the red shirt, that is. He was leaning back and holding his tennis racket back as if preparing for a serve. His other arm was held upwards, as if measuring the ball's distance, and his legs were bent as he geared for a jump. An outlined ball had been added to it as well, and the patch area also had 'JAPAN' on it. The collar and hems had white and orange lines to contrast against the jerseys, and the modest tennis shorts were white with lines at the side like the longer pants.

Meanwhile, behind them, the Reserve team was wearing simple red jerseys, and the non-members were wearing all whites.

"Oi, hurry up, you bunch!" barked Nanjiroh, way ahead of them. The coach, in turn, was wearing something closer to respectable today. There was his usual polo, but today it was red and white—and it was buttoned close for once (and he kept complaining, much to Ryoma's utter annoyance, about how hot it was). He was also wearing his tennis shorts—black, as he preferred them—and tennis shoes, but other than that, he had nothing else. "Media's not fond of waiting, you know!"

Ryoma and Kevin both snorted at that, having experienced the real horrors of media. They both shivered as they were reminded of those rabid fan girls that reportedly injured some journalists who badmouthed them and some other fellow players in the circuit. While it was nice to know that people loved them and practically worshipped the ground they walked on, it was a tad bit disturbing to know that these fans were spurred enough to hurt. (Just imagining how much damage they could do from the opposite side relieved them like hell. Thank God they were fans.)

They rounded the corner and came face to face with the twenty or so full main courts of ITF full and teeming with people—media, fans, scouts, businessmen, fellow athletes; name it. They were all gathered. In the middle of the courts were the students and teams from the other countries.

"Uwah… they all look strong," Eiji muttered under his breath, clutching Oishi's arm and clinging on tightly. He eyed the other teams; they were all obvious for they were wearing different jerseys than the rest of their fellow students. However, Eiji's sharp eyes noted that no one else actually had pronounced Reserved teams like them, and that few rivaled the quality of their jerseys. _As expected of Atobe…_

"Don't worry Eiji, we'll be just fine," smiled Oishi, patting his partner's hand comfortingly.

"Show time," both Ryoma and Atobe smirked at the same time, amusing their team members. Toushi simply shook his head in a Kevin-ish manner, muttering something about 'rubbing off on each other'. The said white-haired Fudou freshman was glad that the others had some tact and didn't ask him questions regarding the previous night's incidents.

"Oi, Ryoma!!!" yelled someone from nearby as they settled around their own court. "Keigo! Minna!" called a voice, and heads turned to find a blonde head sprinting towards them followed by a more relaxed, nonchalant Team USA. (Well, except for the twins, because they were never nonchalant.) The team was sporting the traditional red, white and blue USA motto, and their jerseys look as grand and as expensive as the jerseys Keigo's men made for Team Japan. The US flag their convoy was waving behind them fluttered in sync with the Japanese flag Momoshiro and Taka were waving at the back.

Kevin screeched to a stop right before them, tugging Toushi—who had been standing offhandedly with Shinichi—towards him and slinging a _friendly_ arm around the other boy's shoulders. "How's it going?"

"We just separated thirty minutes ago, Kevin," deadpanned Ryoma.

"So?!" Kevin huffed. "Doesn't mean I have no right to ask how it's going!"

Ryoma simply stuck his tongue out childishly at Kevin, who stuck his tongue out right back. Flashes of cameras went off, and Fuji chuckled. "You two are making quite the commotion. You've attracted people."

And so they found the tensai unfailingly correct. People were milling about, voices getting louder, and cheers getting higher. Fans already spotted the entrance of two already experienced circuit players—one of them a Wimbledon champion.

"_**He really is on Team Japan!**_"

"_**No! I want him on Team USA!"**_

"_**Mr. Echizen! Mr. Echizen, can we ask a question?"**_

"_**Look here, look here!"**_

"_**Mr. Smith, please face here—"**_

"_**Mr. Smith, is it true that you were—"**_

"_**Are you going against each other—"**_

"_**Why did you—"**_

"—_**different teams right now—"**_

Ryoma heaved a long, suffering sigh, nudging his father, who had just procured a set of shades and worked hard to cover his face. "Oi. Why are these media people allowed to do this?!"

"You know them, seishounen, they never follow protocol. They don't know the meaning of the word '_rules_', and that makes them one of my most hated aspects of this circuit," grumbled an extremely uncomfortable Nanjiroh. "I'm camera shy!" he whimpered pathetically, making Ryoma's eyes roll in their sockets involuntarily. "Damn, seishounen, be thankful your daddy loves you this much to even accompany you to this godforsaken circuit I've vowed I'll never face again!!"

"Yes, yes, I love you too, daddy," Ryoma sighed, deadpanning. He was being intentionally sarcastic, but as he briefly thought about it, he figured his dad _was_ saying the truth. After all, he more than anyone knew just how much Nanjiroh despised returning to the circuit scene. But the former pro did it for them—for him.

"Hmm," Inui said, flipping several pages back in his notebook. "So far, the foreign teams are as they're supposed to be, except for one. Team Russia seems to be missing one member. Curious."

"Heehh," Eiji thoughtfully said, looking around. "Where's Team Russia?"

"Over there, down by the green and maroon streamers," pointed Oshitari, adjusting his jersey. "They look pretty strong. Not strong enough to beat us, though."

"But of course!" Keigo said with utter confidence and overflowing arrogance. "Ore-sama will not lose to such unworthy people. Ore-sama will win no matter who or what ore-sama is against."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, we get it," Oshitari sighed, looking over to the side where the Russians were. There was a crowd of blood maroon-clad players—most probably the regular players—off to one side, and they looked like they were having some kind of prep talk with their tall, blonde coach. They were flocked with surrounding players who were wearing greens and whites with touches of maroons, standing tall and proud over the crowd.

"Uwah. They're _tall_…" ogled Eiji.

"Eiji! It's rude to stare!" admonished Oishi sharply, earning a pout from his doubles partner.

"Maa, that'll be their undoing," Fuji pointed out. "A bigger body needs more energy, and thus they have a shorter running time because their stamina reserve will run out faster. It's harder to move faster too because you have to handle the weight and size of your body with the speed."

"They might have done some kind of training to cope with it, though. I doubt the coaches chose them for nothing," pointed out Tachibana. "Overcoming stamina problems isn't impossible, as your acrobat might already know."

Eiji simply grinned and flashed double 'V' signs at them. "Bui, bui, P!"

"In any case, they'll still make good lab rats for me," Fuji smiled brilliantly, placing a hand on Ryoma's shoulder.

"…lab rats?" Eiji repeated.

"Un," nodded Fuji, still smiling. "Lab rats."

"Percentage of Fuji revealing a ninth Counter: 87 percent," muttered Inui under his breath.

"Heehh," Ryoma grinned. "So, Syuu-chan… you've been keeping some techniques up you sleeve?"

"Where's the fun in it if I don't?" shrugged Fuji, before glancing around as if searching for something. "Ne, Inui, what colors are for Team France?"

"If I'm not mistaken, they're the team on the opposite side of the courts from the Russians. Their designated colors were yellow and brown," answered Renji for his data partner, who was busy doing… something in his notebook.

"Hmm. I wonder if Uncle's coming," Fuji mused out loud, scanning the crowd. Truthfully enough, the French were wearing shades of yellow and brown and were flocking around with their—was that a cheering squad?—supporters. "He just might…"

"Oh, look, look, that bunch look strong!" Gakuto pointed, only to be reprimanded by Oshitari.

"That," Renji responded quickly, facing towards the said black-and-grey-clad players. "That is Team Romania. They're one of the teams from the small countries of Europe, but I heard they're pretty strong. Beside them," Renji continued, looking at the next flock of players. "That's Team UK in the royal blues and grays."

"Who're those?" asked Kirihara, nudging his head over to where a crowd of violet-clad players were standing. "And why the hell did they include violet as a color in this competition?" he added, apparently not in baby-mode today.

"Kind of reminds me of that ho who keeps on hogging my Yuuta-chan…" Fuji frowned, opening his ice blue eyes.

Kevin face faulted. "Don't tell me you want to fight them just because of that."

"Any opportunity to show my love to my Ryoma-chan and my Yuuta-chan will be taken and well-used," the tensai simply replied, missing Kevin's rolling eyes.

"They're Team Spain," Inui sighed. "And they insisted on the violet; don't ask me why."

"If you wanted a line-up of the players, you could've just said so, you know," pointed out Scott, handing them a paper that had the list of the teams and the colors, before jabbing his thumb behind him. "Those players behind us wearing steel blues, that's Team Germany. They're one of the big teams in on this."

"_**We don't really understand what you guys are saying—" **_chimed one of the twins; Rick or Ed, no one knew.

"—_**but we gather you're talking about the major teams?" **_chimed the other right after.

Those who understood nodded.

"_**Well, the major teams are basically the ones who have the most sponsors,"**_ started one of the twins.

"_**Right now, Team USA, Team UK, and Team France hold the top three spot."**_

"_**Team Japan stands around the eleventh spot when it comes to the number of independent sponsors—"**_

"—_**but you have more than enough tied sponsors like the Atobe Group of Companies Main District and Oshitari Security Corp., so you're probably—"**_

"—_**around the fourth spot in general."**_

"_**Team Germany comes right after you guys**_," reminded Elliot, who was smiling in a way frighteningly similar to Fuji and Yukimura. _**"Be careful with them; some of their members can be pretty… violent."**_

"_**If it's violence, Team Russia comes into the scene too**__,"_pointed out Laurent.

"_**Is it true that the last team they encountered in their national selection was crippled?"**_ asked Keigo, suddenly interested.

Raleigh nodded, sighing. _**"Half that team won't ever be able to play tennis again in their entire life. That Team Russia they selected—they're very dangerous."**_

"…nya, I don't really understand every word, but are they saying that Team Russia is dangerous?" Eiji asked no one in particular.

Ryoma nodded. "The twins were explaining the big wealthy teams based on the sponsors, and we are on fourth spot thanks to Keigo's and Yuushi's companies. Then Elliot was explaining about Team Germany, and how they can be violent. Then they were warning us about Team Russia," summarized Ryoma for those who were poor on English. He lifted his eyes to Eiji. "You've been studying up, haven't you, Eiji-senpai?"

Eiji grinned. "Bui! _**Of course!**_"

Ryoma simply chuckled, impressed at how fast they learned to comprehend and listen.

"_**May I have everyone's attention, please? Thank you."**_ came a woman's voice over the loudspeakers, silencing the crowds. A hush descended on the entire court area as the fans stopped cheering to listen and the media and teams moved to their positions. Soon enough, every team was lined up with the Regulars up front, Reserves—if any—were behind them, and the non-team members were lined up neatly at the back and holding the banners. _**"Today, we're here to witness the opening ceremony for the International Amateur Junior Tennis Tournament organized by the International Tennis Federation. We're proud to showcase carefully scouted and selected blooming young players from all over the world and we are proud of them and their talents, which I'm sure everyone will have a chance to see later."**_

"_**Before we begin, let us hear some words from…"**_

Ryoma yawned—and didn't bother trying to hide it even if he was in the front row—as his eyes drooped, tuning out the boring speech. He could feel that his best partner-in-crime Kevin was doing the same—much to Scott's dismay and utter annoyance—but he knew that there was nothing within the speech anyway. It was just all pleasantries.

However, as he glanced at Tezuka and Fuji—who were dutifully flanking him like sentinels as usual—he noticed that both were listening faithfully like good little boys. Well, Fuji was _selectively_ listening and half-playing with Ryoma's fingers—because they were still holding hands—while Tezuka was listening dutifully like the good captain he was. Keigo was—Ryoma face faulted—checking his reflection in a pocket mirror, while Yukimura was cooing at Kirihara openly.

He rolled his eyes.

_Sanada-san and Kuni-bu, they're both like old men. Tachibana-san can already pass as my uncle or father!_

He was wary of actually falling asleep as the old man on the stage droned on and on and on and on…

"Ryoma," nudged Fuji. "Ryoma."

"Huh…?" Ryoma groggily voiced, eyes snapping open. He realized that he'd actually fallen asleep standing as he noted the applause that was coming from the side of the Russian team. "Oops. Well, that was quick." He turned his ears to the woman who was now speaking again. "Where are we?"

"Introduction of the teams," Fuji said. "Team Russia was just introduced. It's almost us."

"Oh…" Ryoma muttered hazily, sighing and stretching his shoulder. "I see. Kevin and the bunch done yet?"

"No, not yet," Fuji replied. "They're right before us."

They looked up as applause rang from the crowd behind them, the team beside Kevin stepping up. The captain of Team Spain, a guy named Paulo Bautista, stepped up along with his team. Ryoma hummed contemplatively, comparing the size of Team USA and Team Japan's cheer squads. Keigo, he knew, had contracted people to cheer for both teams the earlier that morning after they'd selected the captain. He snorted as he recalled how they'd decided the captain for their team.

"_We need to decide on a captain, seishounen-tachi," announced Nanjiroh as the crowd was gathered for one last meeting before setting off for ITF. _

_Silence descended upon the crowd._

_This was one of those matters that just totally stumped them. Choosing between the Regulars—half of which were captains of their own respective teams—was not an easy task. If they were going for qualities, it would make decisions even harder to make. All of them were strong and responsible, good leaders with valuable experience._

"_How about we try rock-paper-scissors?" suggested Eiji._

"_Just flip a coin, for goodness' sake," yawned Jiroh. "Then let me sleep."_

_Silence._

"_Ah, I knew you guys wouldn't be able to decide on the spot anyways, so…" Nanjiroh shrugged, pulling them all together. "…is it okay if I decide?"_

_The team looked at each other, before Ryoma shrugged and resumed clinging to Tezuka, who was consenting. "Too tiring. Takes toll on cuddle time. Not me."_

"_I'll step down from this one," Tachibana smiled. "I want the captain to be someone who understands all the workings better than I do. I'm still new with this."_

_Sanada bowed his head. "I'm stepping down as well."_

_Nanjiroh nodded. "I expected you guys to withdraw anyways, and we can't have Chitose-kun since he won't be here until tomorrow," sighed the coach. "Hmm, ja, no hard feelings on my decisions, okay? I thought this over ever since we arrived here, so… I've decided that there will be no vice captain, and the team will be having co-captaincy."_

_A wave of murmurs ran over the rest of them as the team members remained silent._

"_Fuji-kun, Yukimura-kun," Nanjiroh said, before grinning._

"_FUJIKO AND YUKI-SAN?!" Eiji screeched._

"_Are you barking _mad_, oyaji?" asked Ryoma, raising both eyebrows. "No single opposing team will walk out of the courts alive if we do that!"_

"_Hmm, I'm not finished yet," sang Nanjiroh. "Fuji-kun and Yukimura-kun, I'm sorry, but you two will have to stand down for that same exact reason Ryoma stated. I'm choosing Tezuka-kun and Kei-chan to be co-captains, and _I expect you to share your duties. Properly. PEACEFULLY."

_Silence once again washed over them._

_Without even looking at each other, Fuji and Yukimura both stepped backwards. "We're okay with that," they both said simultaneously with conceding smiles that curiously enough sent shivers crawling down their spines. Nanjiroh had a feeling that even though he didn't declare them captains, they would find a way to get what they wanted more than half the time._

_Ryoma snuggled against Tezuka. "Kuni-bu is still Kuni-bu."_

"_I'll do my best," Tezuka acquiesced._

"_Ore-sama does not fail, therefore ore-sama will not fail," Keigo smirked, tempting Ryoma into kicking the Atobe heir. _

And as such, their captain_s_ were decided.

Ryoma personally thought that his Kuni-bu was enough, but well, what was done was done. He hadn't wanted to inflate Keigo's already inflated head, but apparently, Nanjiroh had other ideas. _Maa, that's fine. He'll come in useful for the public relations and the fan service stuff. And the media. He can handle the media._

"_**Our next team is sponsored by the Atobe Group of Companies, Oshitari Security Corp., Bell, Hilton USA, Microsoft, Onasis Foundation, Verizon, Yonex, Concierge, and AT&T. Independent sponsors wish remain unnamed. Led by Team Captain Kevin Smith, 2007 Rolland Garros Champion and 2007 Australian Open Champion. Please welcome Team USA!"**_

A tremendous cheer arose from the stands, the rumbling voices of a few thousand people deafening as it descended over the players. Screams of frenzy erupted from a corner where fangirls seem to have gathered together to fortify themselves. Suddenly, Ryoma felt that the teams' applauses were _tiny._ There was a cheering squad chanting the traditional cheer for Team USA—how it went, Ryoma already forgot and had no intentions of remembering just yet—but they were half-drowned in the huge welcome.

Kevin raised his hand and chuckled as the cameras started flashing. _**"Here we go with the smiling again."**_

"_**Bear with it,"**_ Scott sighed.

The cheers slowly died down as the woman spoke again.

"_**The next team comes from the Far Eastern corner of the world. This team is sponsored by a hefty number of independent sponsors who wish to remain unnamed and by the Atobe Group of Companies, Oshitari Security Corp., Concierge International, Epson, Enix, Mitsubishi, Nikkon, Yonex, Shiseido, and Pioneer. They are led by Co-Captains Tezuka Kunimitsu, professional junior tennis player from ITF Japan, and Atobe Keigo, professional junior tennis from ITF Japan and heir to the Atobe Group of Companies Main District, and they have 2007 Wimbledon Champion and 2006 US Open Champion Echizen Ryoma as one of their aces. Please welcome Team Japan!"**_

Keigo and Tezuka simultaneously stepped up with the team, the former raising his hand and snapping his fingers.

Instantly, the extraneous lights shut down as the remaining lights isolated Team Japan in the front and center. Red and orange petals rained as deafening screams from fans thundered over them. Somewhere in the background, a tango song was going, and it seemed faintly familiar to Ryoma's ears, but he just couldn't place it.

Ryoma was tempted to think that their fans from Japan were here as well, since he could hear the traditional school cheers from the background voices. Some fangirls were chanting the Hyotei and Seigaku cheers translated into English. Behind them, Taka-san and Momoshiro hefted two large Japanese flags and started waving them around with the falling petals.

"Ore-sama-tachi no bigi ni…" Keigo started, running his hand through his hair, before flipping it back. "…yoi na."

"ATOBE-SAMAAAAA!!"

"_**Ryomaaaaa!!"**_

"_**Keiiigoooo!!"**_

"The winner will be Atobe!! The winner will be Atobe!!"

"_**The winner will be Atobe! The winner will be Atobe!"**_

"Fight-o, Team Japan, fight-o, fight-o!!"

Eiji's eyes bulged. "Unyaa… Atobe has a cheering squad in the US?!"

Oishi chuckled faintly in discomfort as the spotlights rested on them. Momoshiro and Taka, however, were very busy with the flags.

Ryoma scowled in annoyance, grudgingly admitting, "Saru-sama's annoyingly good at picking slaves to chant for him, see." He continued straining his ear over the cheers to listen to the tango song. He turned to Keigo and tugged at the older player's jersey to rip said player's attention from the fans and from himself. "Oi. What song is that?"

Keigo smiled surreptitiously. "Don't you remember the song we danced to when we were little, Ryoma-chan?"

Ryoma's face remained blank for a few seconds, before turning absolutely beet red. He rushed to Fuji and clung, heedless of the eyes turned to them. He didn't want to remember that incident, and as such, he tuned out Keigo's chuckling.

"Isn't that the song…?" Sanada started, glancing at Keigo.

"Yes, that was the song at the opera house back in middle school," nodded Keigo, smirking. "Brings back old memories, doesn't it?"

Sanada simply chuckled. Fuji chuckled along as the fans continued chanting even after the lights went back on. The woman on stage chuckled in bemusement. _**"Well, that was quite an introduction."**_

Soon enough, the introductions were finished, and the captains had finished greeting each other. Yuri Riazanov of Team Russia, Gustave Fulke of Team Germany, Niculai Stavrache of Team Romania, and a few others among Tezuka and Keigo filed into the small conference room by the stage to hold a meeting with the teams, the organizers, and the coaches.

"Tachibana," Tezuka prompted.

Tachibana nodded. "Go ahead. I'll take care of the stuff over here."

With that Tezuka and Keigo followed along with Nanjiroh, disappearing into the crowd of other players flocking around. Kevin sprinted after them, tugging along a harassed Scott and leaving the rest behind to wait.

"What do we do now?" voiced Gakuto.

"We wait and observe," Inui answered, flipping open his notebook and starting to scout people.

* * *

"Sadaharu," Renji started.

"Hmm?"

"How large a percentage is it that they're talking about something important in that private family dinner?" asked Renji.

"…97.46 percent."

"Wrong."

"Hmm?"

"It's 97.48."

"Oh? My bad."

Inui continued writing in his notebook, eyeglasses glinting as it caught the light from Renji's laptop.

Echizen Rinko, Ryoma's mother, had arrived about an hour or so earlier, and as such, the Echizen family decided to have a private family dinner with the Atobes, who were, for once, all at home. Oshitari Yuushi, for some reason they suspected was related to him being an heir of a company as well, was invited along. Ryoga was out that night, so Ryoma had agreed to go to dinner provided that he was spoiled mad with the ice cream that he'd been wanting to eat but was forbidden to because of their training diet.

Right now, they were inside their rooms—Renji had moved in after Kaidoh moved out—and they were both perplexed as to what important matter the two families had to discuss. Surely there was _something_, since Oshitari, who wasn't family (as far as they knew), was in it as well.

And, as usual, the two data players were vexed with the answer—or lack thereof.

"Renji," started Inui.

"Hmm?"

"How large a percentage is it that we'll succeed investigation if we try hacking into the system?" asked Inui.

"…66.78 percent."

"Wrong."

"Hmm?"

"It's 66.76."

"Oh? My bad."

The keys tapped. The pencil scratched.

Silence.

The two data players glanced at each other.

"Let's do it?"

"Let's do it."

* * *

**Thirty minutes later… **

"Inui-san. Renji-san!" knocked Choutarou as they passed the rooms. He had been on his way with the rest of Hyoutei—minus Jiroh, who was most probably sleeping somewhere—to the dining hall. "Dinnertime!"

"What are they doing, I wonder," Gakuto thought out loud, grabbing the doorknob. "Awfully quiet."

He pushed the door open, and came upon a curious sight. Wires and cords were scattered on the floor, and were coming somewhere from the far wall. A camera was dismantled on one of the two beds, and two laptops were connected together on the other. Inui was fiddling with one of the red and blue wires, while Renji was typing like mad.

"…what are you two _doing_?!" Gakuto screeched.

No reply.

"Hey. Someone's talking here," Gakuto deadpanned.

No reply.

"OI!" yelled Gakuto, throwing a pillow that was nearby at Inui's head. The genius was too busy concentrating on the wires that he didn't see the pillow coming. "Talk to me!"

"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was busy," Inui said, looking up at them as he righted his glasses that had been knocked askew.

"Obviously," snorted Hiyoshi.

"Was there anything you wanted?" Renji asked, now back into the world of the living as well. "We're busy here."

"Well sor-ry," Gakuto scoffed. "In any case, it's dinnertime."

"…Renji-san, are you _hacking into the manor's systems_?!" exclaimed Shishido, who had somehow stepped his way through the confusion and was now crouching by the free laptop and viewing the cascading numbers.

"What?!" "Ehh?!" "Renji-san!!" triple exclamations came.

Inui adjusted his glasses, peering at Shishido curiously. "You recognized it?"

Shishido looked over to Inui, before returning his eyes to the screen. "I know how to hack a bit. Not as much as this, but I know the basics. But… this… why are you…?"

"Aren't you curious about that private dinner?" Inui raised an eyebrow. "We wanted to spy, but this will take quite long… they might be finished already…"

"Tch, you want to spy?" snorted an incredulous Gakuto. "That's easy."

Eyes landed on him.

He grinned.

* * *

Jiroh yawned as he led the small group into his room, Inui and Renji carrying their respective notebooks and laptops. Gakuto, Kabaji, and Hiyoshi were giving Shishido and Choutarou, who were beginning the lovey-dovey syndrome again, some space. On their way there, they've acquired a few more people—Kikumaru, Kirihara, Marui, and Niou, who wanted to be included in their little mission, and by extension, Oishi, Jackal, and Yagyuu.

"Inui, are you sure we should be doing this…?" Oishi worriedly started, but was cut off by his doubles partner, who scoffed.

"Come on, aibou!" bounced Eiji, as high as ever. "This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity to find out ochibi and Atobe's secrets, nya!!"

"Aren't you curious yourself, Oishi-san?" asked Kirihara. "Admit it."

"Admit it, admit it!!" Eiji pushed, nudging Oishi.

Oishi sputtered.

"For the sake of data and information, we must do this, Oishi," Inui replied silently, following a groggy Jiroh dutifully.

"This is good bribing information," Kirihara chuckled darkly, eyes glinting. The rest of them drew away from him, weary of the emerging demon side. "Sei-chan will be glad if I bring worthy information."

"How did you know about the wall, anyway?" asked Jiroh blearily as he opened the door that connected his room to Keigo's chambers.

"Yuushi mentioned something about it one time," Gakuto shrugged.

"Hmmm…" Jiroh nodded, leading them quickly to the small living area where there was a huge wall with something that looked like vector print art. Jiroh picked up one of the numerous remotes by the sofa-side table, pressed a button, collapsed on the loveseat, and promptly started snoring.

"O-Oi, what are we supposed to—" Gakuto started, but shut his mouth as the huge wall-sized vector art disappeared into a black screen. "It wasn't a painting…?"

The black screen came to life, and it divided itself into cubes that showed the security camera footages all over the house by floor. Renji picked up the remote from Jiroh's hand and examined it for a bit, before pressing several buttons. The screen flickered and then changed to show the east patio.

"No, not that one, this one!" Inui sighed, pressing a different button.

It showed the dining room.

"Not that one either."

The lounge.

"This?"

The tennis courts.

"No—"

The ballroom.

"Give me—"

Sanada napping with a Yukimura plushie.

Pause.

"Carrot-top, you did it wrong!"

"Who the hell are you calling carrot-top?!"

"E-Eiji!!"

Nanjiroh giggling over a porn—erm, a _gay_ porn magazine.

Pause.

"Let's pretend we didn't just see that for the sake of our sanities."

"It's this button!"

"No, not that, this one—"

Yagyuu snatched the remote from the two geniuses' hands and pressed a button. "It's this one, baka."

The screen flickered to show the west private patio, where the two families plus Yuushi were dining.

"…"

* * *

Ryoma hummed as he slowly started demolishing his dessert: a huge generous bowl of macchiato and caramel ice cream with dollops of chocolate syrup and sprinkles of cherries and a strawberry on top. Deftly his tongue darted to lick his spoon clean, savoring the full taste of the addicting lump of calories and sugar. Beside him, Keigo was in heaven with the heavenly specialty sweets courtesy of their best confectioners.

They—that is, him, Keigo, Oshitari, Rinko, Nanjiroh, Yukiko, and Miyagi—were sitting around a round table fit for them out in the open west lounge private upper patio. Rinko had arrived earlier that night, and they had settled for a private family dinner affair. Of course, the other players were curious about it; in fact, it had taken some _severe_—and let's not mention _how_ severe—persuasion from Tezuka to make Fuji let Ryoma out of sight. However, the respect for their coach and the elderly overrode their curiosity—which was a rare thing, unfortunately—and as such, they were left alone for some peace.

"How nostalgic," sighed Yukiko. "I remember, long ago we used to have these private dinners as well. It's too bad Yuushi-chan's the only one of the Oshitari family here right now."

Oshitari sighed, dabbing his lips gently with the napkin. "Mother sends her regards, Yukiko-obaa-san, Rinko-obaa-san. She says she wants to meet up with you one time. I think she'll be in Venice in about two weeks from today, when she'll have some off time."

The ladies tittered, and Miyagi took his turn to talk to the Oshitari heir. "Yuushi-kun, how is your father doing? I heard the business is going well. You're now the leading security company in the running, from the last I've heard. Congratulations."

"Thank you," nodded Oshitari. "My father, as usual, is working his brows off and spoiling my mother with Louis Vuitton and Prada."

"Ah, same as usual Junko-chan, ne," smiled Rinko in remembrance of another one of her girlfriends.

"Same as usual Tanaka too," snorted Nanjiroh, shaking his head. "You tell that father of yours to stop spoiling Junko so much, Yuushi-kun. Who knows, one day he might run out."

"Ah, now I doubt that," chuckled Miyagi.

Yukiko took a dainty sip of her cocktail, before catching the portrait that was hanging on the wall. A smile lit her face. "Ah, yes. I believe it's time to have another portrait done. It is almost Keigo's coming of age. Don't you think it's a good idea, anata?" she smiled, turning to Miyagi, who wisely kept his mouth shut.

Immediately, Yuushi, Nanjiroh, and Miyagi drew away from the conversation. They knew where this was heading, and that 'where' was somewhere _dangerous_.

As expected, Ryoma choked on his ice cream, reaching for the nearest glass of water and downing it. "As if sa—Kei needs another hulking portrait of himself," he grumbled, catching himself in mid-insult and reminding himself that he was forbidden to call Keigo 'saru-sama' in front of their parents.

Yukiko turned to Ryoma with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Oh? Is Ryoma-chan jealous?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Her mouth slightly turned upwards, eyes twinkling ominously as she turned to Rinko, who had a similar look painted on her face. "Then it should be a joint portrait for both of them. It's about time they've had another done, isn't it?"

Rinko's expression turned into something that was gleeful and bordering on utter heaven. "I think you have a very _wonderful_ point, Yuko-chan. Ryoma looks _sooo_ wonderful when Kei-chan dolls—ahh—_dresses_ him up…"

Ryoma huffed in his corner, pouting and crossing his arms cutely. "I'm not a doll!" he exclaimed huffily, eyes agleam. However, his sniffling destroyed the scowl that he was trying to put on his face.

The ladies both looked at him, silently, regarding him with level, deadpanned stares, before turning back to each other without a comment as if Ryoma's statement was something that was not worth their attention.

"…and while Kei-chan provides me with hundreds of pictures of Ryoma," Rinko continued. "The ones with the both of them are few," she smirked, turning to Keigo to tease. "I more than suspect Keigo guards those jealously somewhere."

Keigo's ears turned slightly red as he struggled to maintain a straight face, failing miserably as he stammered incoherently and blushed furiously, obviously flustered.

Ryoma angrily turned to the Atobe heir and indignantly started, "You—"

Yukiko's voice, however, cut them off as the ladies continued to ignore them. "Why yes, Katsura-san just purchased another photo tome for Keigo. I suppose that's where they go."

Keigo, horrified and embarrassed, exclaimed, "Mother!"

And he was ignored.

Yukiko continued heedlessly, "That's why we need to have a nice portrait of them to accompany their other one in the west family ro—"

"NOOO!!" Ryoma yelled suddenly, making the three other men (Miyagi, Nanjiroh, and Oshitari) jump in surprise. Nanjiroh was pretty sure the yell reached downstairs. The Seigaku freshman started whining, "Moooooom!!"

And he was ignored.

"Oooh, Ryoma was so pretty in that one!" Rinko crooned, stars in her eyes. "I was _sooo_ disappointed when he was born a boy. I wanted a girl so much!" the mother continued, shooting a sharp glare to Nanjiroh as if blaming her husband, who cringed and inched away. ("Ladies are best left alone when in moods like these.")

"Although he looked very much like a royal princess with that beautiful kimono on and Keigo-chan—ahh, always dashing in suits!! They looked like they were made for each other, deshou?" Rinko practically squealed.

Yukiko nodded fervently, bouncing in her seat like a child who'd found a new play doll. "I would have definitely pursued a union between our families through marriage had Ryoma been a girl. He makes such a _beautiful_ bridesmaid. I'm sure that he would have made an absolutely _breathtaking_ bride!!"

Keigo groaned in absolute mortification that was beyond words. He sank against his chair, receiving sympathetic stares from Nanjiroh and Miyagi, but still managed to maintain his Atobe grace. However, his Atobe grace did not prevent the obvious embarrassment reflected in his flushed face, which trailed even further down his collar.

Rinko continued after Yukiko, eyes sparkling in absolute delight. "Ooooh, and they would have such _beautiful_ children!!" she cooed, making Ryoma and Keigo freeze in their seats. She turned towards Yukiko again. "Say, Yuko-chan, don't you have a company that deals with technology, specifically with genetic engineering?" she asked, and continued at the excited nod from Yukiko. "I wonder if you would—"

"_MOM!" "MOTHER!"_

Both Keigo and Ryoma yelled out in utter humiliation at the presented idea. If they weren't blushing from head to toe before, now they were glowing a brilliant firecracker red.

And they were ignored.

Yukiko clapped her hands in absolute glee, this time really bouncing in her seat (with the Atobe finesse, of course). "Oh, what a wonderful idea!! I shall get them started as soon as—"

"_**I'm not—" "He's not—"**_

"_**He's not—" "I'm not—"**_

"_**We're not—" "We're not—"**_

Keigo and Ryoma both paused, looking at each other for a whole solid second, before releasing simultaneous similar shudders.

"_**I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH HIM!!"**_ they shrieked at the same time, pointing accusatory fingers at each other as they erupted out of their seats.

Several birds erupted from their nests nearby.

Silence.

Yuushi mildly commented, "It's not like you two don't have enough estrogen to make a baby. I think it'll work just fine." And the Oshitari heir immediately found himself pinned by two patented deathly glares.

But like it was with the matrons, they were ignored.

Yukiko fanned herself with her hand, breezily saying, "What are you talking about, Kei-chan, Ryo-chan? From what I hear from Katsura-san, you've reverted back to sleeping with each other before you came back here in the US."

Keigo and Ryoma both erupted in similar protests, spluttering. "It's not what you think—"

Yuushi inputted again, drawling dryly, "Me thinks the _ladies_ doth protest too much."

Ryoma and Keigo hotly turned to him, Ryoma hissing and frothing like a cat as he was pushed over the edge and Keigo freezing everything within a five-meter radius (figuratively speaking, of course).

And they were ignored.

Rinko nodded sagely, continuing, "And when they're not, Ryoma's in the connected room right next to Keigo's like it always has been whenever they're in the same house so that he can sleep with Keigo whenever he gets his nightmares—"

"MOM, I WON'T HAVE _**SEX**_ WITH HIM!!" Ryoma all but screeched (in a very girly fashion, but let's leave that out).

Rinko frowned at her son. "I don't think Keigo would be all that bad when it comes to making love, Ryoma. In fact, I imagine Keigo to be quite adept in that area, given that he's very… ahh, _thorough_ and especially caring towards you—"

Ryoma and Keigo both spluttered again. "MOM!" "BAA-SAN!"

Yukiko nodded wisely. "That's right. Atobe men are… very well versed in that area," she smiled, turning a predatory gaze on Miyagi, who froze in his spot. "If I do say so myself."

"And if Ryoma's got that Echizen gene," Rinko continued, turning to Keigo. "Which no doubt he has, seeing that he's just about as stubborn as his dear father, he's bound to be a… hmm, a _glutton_ when it comes to these things," she nodded, before turning to Ryoma and smiling sweetly. "See now, Ryoma dearest? You have _nothing_ to worry about."

Ryoma deflated and whimpered pitifully, clutching his seat. "Oh ground, please swallow me now," he whinged, mentally calling out for his Syuu-chan and Kuni-bu to save him from the hell he was going through.

Yuushi assumed the 'Atobe-mode' and with a puffing sneer, he said, "Ore-sama can assure you that no ground which an Atobe graces his presence upon is weak enough to crumble beneath him."

Both the other teens' voices simultaneously rose in crescendo. "YUUSHI, SHUT UP!"

And all the while, Nanjiroh and Miyagi stayed in the sidelines, careful to keep to themselves for safety. "Women…" sighed the two, shaking their heads and burying them to their after-meal alcoholic beverage.

* * *

Silence blanketed over the small crowd of people ogling the screen and blinking their eyes repeatedly as if not believing what they'd heard. Jaws hung wide open in mixtures of surprise, utter shock, and complete mortification at the images that were forming in their heads.

"…I'm glad…" started Kirihara, gulping audibly. "…that neither of those two women is my mother."

"...shouldn't we tell Fuji-san and Tezuka-san about this?" asked Choutarou.

Eyes snapped to him, and in sudden frenzy, everyone yelled, "NO!"

* * *

Tezuka sneezed lightly inside their rooms, rubbing his nose. He shifted in the big red squashy armchair he was sitting in, holding the huge tome in his lap steady with one hand as he continued reading. Beside him on the bed, Fuji looked up.

"You're not catching a cold, are you, Kunimitsu?" asked Fuji silently, crawling over and abandoning his portfolio he was trying to arrange in favor of his boyfriend. He reached over to Tezuka and placed a soft hand on the captain's forehead while he placed the other on his own forehead, comparing the temperatures. While it was very possible that the captain was breaking under stress or overworking himself, Fuji knew that Tezuka took care of himself very well because of the responsibilities said player carried on his shoulders.

"I'm fine, Syuusuke," sighed Tezuka, settling the book down to a more comfortable position and adjusting his glasses. "Just a bit of the book dust, I guess."

Fuji smiled. "I keep on telling you to let the maids air out the books first before you filch them from the library to read away," the tensai chuckled, brushing back Tezuka's hair gently and affectionately. "You might get some sort of inf—"

"KUNI-BU!" yelled a very familiar voice in tandem with the slam of the opening door.

Fuji's head swiveled around with Tezuka, only to find a flying Ryoma flinging himself towards the direction of the mentioned captain. Tezuka, anticipating the younger teen, placed his book away to prevent serious damage, before deftly catching the flying Ryoma. The captain blinked, suddenly sporting a lapful of a very… for the lack of word, _weird_ Ryoma.

"Kuni-bu!" Ryoma crooned, latching onto Tezuka like a leech and wrapping his arms and legs around the captain, making sure skin to skin contact was plentiful. Ryoma started snuggling and rubbing and wiggling, as if he was an animal trying to get his mate's scent all over himself. "Kuni-bu, Kuni-bu, Kuni-buuuuuu!! My Kuni-bu!! Kuni-kuni-kuni-bu!!"

"Ryo-chan…?" Fuji voiced, raising an eyebrow, wanting to chuckle but hesitating in fear of upsetting the… erm, weird Ryoma.

Tezuka placed a hand on Ryoma's lower back. "Kitten, is there anything wrong?"

Ryoma vehemently muttered something against Tezuka's shirt, but to his two boyfriends, his words were as clear as day. "I won't have babies with Keigo even if he's great at sex!"

Silence.

Birds chirping.

Silence.

"E-Eh…?"

Ryoma scowled darkly at the confounded captain, ignoring Fuji's very sharp stare that was asking—no, _demanding_—for an explanation. "I. Am. Not. Making. Babies. With. Keigo. No. Matter. How. Great. He. Is. At. Blowing. Or. How. Bloody. Wonderful. At. BANGING. PEOPLE!!" he enunciated, his voice escalating to a shout gradually until the end.

Tezuka's eyes narrowed as he half caught up, stiffening. "So you've slept with Atobe."

Ryoma sniffed dryly, blinking. "I've just said I'm not going to."

Tezuka pursed his lips tersely. "So you _have_ slept with him."

Ryoma scowled again. "Of course, I've been sleeping with him for a long time now, and we've been together since we were kids," Ryoma pointed out.

There was a pregnant pause.

Then, Ryoma's eyes widened as he caught on to what Tezuka was hinting at. "NO, I BLOODY HAVEN'T HAD SEX WITH HIM!"

Pause.

"…oh," Tezuka blinked.

Ryoma grumbled. "And they say I was the slow one," he muttered, snuggling his head under Tezuka's chin. He proceeded purring in pleasure as Fuji started kneading down his back with gentle, knowledgeable hands. "Shiiiiaaaatsuuuuu…."

* * *

Momoshiro stuck his tongue out as he tried to pull out a block from the bottom of the quite tall tower they've built. Yukimura had procured a Jenga set, and now him, Sanada, Tachibana, Kaidoh, Kamio, and Shinji were all trying to outdo each other in the game. Of course, as expected, Yukimura was winning (being the only one who still haven't lost a game), seconded by Tachibana, who was tying with Sanada. Him and Kaidoh were on ties after them, while Kamio and Shinji were doing their own battle with their scores.

He tried to stop the quiver in his fingers as he grabbed one of the blocks from the middle part and slowly eased it out.

And down it goes.

"Arrrgh!" Momoshiro groaned in frustration, tugging at his hair.

Yukimura giggled. "You've lost two games in a row now, Momo-chan," the Rikkai captain quipped, popping another one of those chocolates that seemed to lie scattered around the manor haphazardly.

"I can't believe Yuki-san _still_ hasn't lost even just _one_ game!" Momoshiro exclaimed loudly.

"Fssssh… as expected of Yukimura-san," Kaidoh muttered, rearranging the blocks. He himself had only lost one game, and he hoped he wouldn't lose anymore.

After all, the one who'd lose over all would be in… uhm, a _very embarrassing_ situation indeed.

Just then, Fuji, Tezuka, and Ryoma all traipsed down the stairs—well, Fuji and Tezuka did, seeing that Ryoma was latched onto Tezuka as usual—and made a beeline for the squashy couch near them. Fuji slunk around them, never letting go of Tezuka's hand. "Oooo, Jenga. I'll assume Seiichi-kun is winning?"

Simultaneous groans erupted from Kamio and Momoshiro, and a chuckle rose from a relaxed Tachibana, proving Fuji's suspicions.

Fuji smiled. "How about a showdown, Seiichi-kun?" offered Fuji. "Just between you and me."

Yukimura looked up, regarding Fuji with a level stare as silence descended upon the group. It was rare, after all, to see a showdown between the two deadly geniuses. It wasn't a tennis showdown (which is, no doubt, what they'd have preferred), but it was a showdown nonetheless.

"Syuu-chan, ganbatte ne," Ryoma's voice floated from where he was comfortably snuggled against a silent Tezuka. "If Syuu-chan wins, kitten will give Syuu-chan a thousand kitty kisses."

Fuji's smile widened.

However, before they could start any game, one of the maids approached Ryoma and Tezuka. "Echizen-san, you left your tennis bag out here earlier when you got home," she explained, handing him the bulging tennis bag. Ryoma, however, showed no signs of letting go of Tezuka, nor even just recognizing that somebody was talking to him.

The maid sweat dropped.

"Hora, Ryoma, she's talking to you properly," Tezuka admonished gently, only to receive a half-coherent murmur and a slight snuggle wiggle.

Tezuka paused, before sighing and looking up at the maid apologetically. "I'm sorry about this. He's a bit… well… you know."

The maid nodded in an understanding manner as Fuji took the bag from her with a thankful bow. "I'll be leaving you sirs, then. If ever you need anything, please let me know." With that, the maid bowed her way out of the room, leaving them with Ryoma's forgotten tennis bag.

Fuji set the bag down by the sofa's side, turning back to Yukimura. Ryoma, who finally bothered actually moving from Tezuka's embrace, reached over for his bag. "What's this?" he said, calling everyone's attention.

He pulled out a small envelope from the slip pocket on the back of the bag, examining it. "Nothing on it," he muttered, before shrugging. He slit the corner and pulled out a piece of paper—

"AH!"

He dropped the envelope, which fell to the floor dully, the paper from inside floating down much slower. Eyes widened at the single word written on the floating piece of paper—with what looked like dried blood—and the fresh droplets of blood that was staining the two pieces of paper.

Ryoma clutched his bleeding finger, eyeing the sharp blade that was hidden inside the envelope as it glinted under the light.

'_DIE.'_

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Let's call it a day for now. It's 12.25 AM. I have school tomorrow. I have to wake up at nine, and it's three hours of math, PLUS homework, which will be more or less a hundred or so items for the two sections we're covering.

So I'll take my leave.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 06.07.07  
First Revision Version: 06.07.07_


	30. Step Twenty Nine: Blood Runs Deep

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Both Aventria and I are very busy these weeks—my summer term is getting to me—while Tri has some… stuff she needs to do (for school as well, I think) (Tria: Practice exams that actually count for marks and labs… damned bastards… and not to mention the actual exams!!). So pardon the slow/late updates. We try our best to update weekly, though. Like right now, I'm waiting for my friend who'll give me a ride to school, but she'll come in… about 20 minutes more, so I decided to just type a few words and some. The more we get done earlier, the better.

Well, 'nuff said about us. More of the mystery revealed here.

**Issue: Ryoma Being OOC**

Err… okay, we've noticed that he's being cuddly these last few as well, but we'll correct that. In any case, please bear with us, those who pointed this issue out. Don't worry; he's still the right same brat he's been from the day he was born (and that won't change no matter how cuddly and cute he becomes).

**To the fans who haven't seen yet:**

_**Major TezuRyo-nesh in the manga chapter 349**_. Ryoma and Tezuka changing inside the clubroom. Just the two of them. Perfectly open and free for personal fanlation. (Tri found me a fanlation that –_cough_- made me choke in delight. Blame her if your authoress dies prematurely before completing One Step. She keeps on attempting to kill me by making me choke on my food repeatedly.)

**From Aventria: Warning: **We, ah, kind of gotten carried away on the AtoRyo scenes (sheepish laugh). But it's all good fun and Ryoma's still the snarky brat we all love.

Gomen to Tola-chan who we kept waiting for this chapter all night (day in her case). This is dedicated to you.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**Step Twenty-Nine: Blood Runs Deep**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Four sets of elderly eyes watched the thirty or so players who were down and on their arms, three sets amused and one defiantly wary. The players were now in their push-up counts, and though some were doing pretty good, most were panting like exhausted dogs worked into oblivion (which was probably an accurate description). 

Thankfully, though, Team Japan's formal members were keeping up, even if the others were having troubles. Tezuka was back in captain-mode, and while Fuji, Yukimura, and Tachibana had changed none, Ryoma, Kirihara, Sanada, and Chitose—who'd arrived very early that morning and was picked up by Nanjiroh from the airport—were all pumped up.

Especially the resident Seigaku baby.

Ryoma was—thankfully enough—back into the professional tennis player mode (which he'd been out of for the past few days because of, as Keigo had mildly put it, a 'troublingly severe bout of childishness coupled with sugar and pampering overload'). The younger Echizen was as snarky and cheeky as ever, as if he was letting out all the snarkiness he'd kept hidden for days inside. Ever since they'd arrived, the boy had been attached to Fuji and Tezuka—and occasionally Keigo and Kevin—partly because of the newly returned affections from Tezuka and Fuji, partly because of the reconciled friendship with Kevin, partly because of the pampering Fuji and Keigo had both been giving, and partly because of Ryoga's presence.

As such, Ryoma was banned from overly sweet stuff for a week, courtesy of Rinko and Nanjiroh. (That included cakes, chocolates, candies, any kind of confectioneries, and (ESPECIALLY) Fuji and/or Tezuka's… erm, over-attention.) Of course, the young man had resorted to anything and everything he had and he knew on the face of the earth to get his 'stolen privileges' back; he'd tried throwing a right fit, yelling himself hoarse, breaking precious furniture, bothering all the other players to help him, whinging even more pitifully than a homeless puppy (especially to Keigo, who went out of his way to avoid him)—he'd tried EVERYTHING, and NONE worked.

NONE.

Except one.

"Mada mada da ne," Ryoma snickered as he did mentally counted 254 push-ups, continuing his routine as he stared at his father, who was hugging his entire stash of magazines while staring at his youngest warily and defiantly.

"I think you really scared the shit out of him, Ryoma," Toushi muttered from beside him, before shaking his head to whisk off some of the sweat that was dripping down the sides of his face. For once, the white-haired player was seen without Kevin, as the blonde was out at the ITF HQ training with Team USA. "What you did was a bit harsh."

"What are you talking about?" Ryoma stared back at him with wide innocent cat-eyes that had Toushi rolling his eyes.

"You know as much as I do what I'm talking about," Toushi grumbled, mentally thanking whoever and whatever god was out there for sending the cooling breeze from the nearby sea into the courts. The thunder cliffs—called such because of the thunder-like sounds the crashing sea made against them—were apparently not high enough to block off the incoming sea breeze.

"What can I say?" chuckled Fuji from Ryoma's other side. "He learned from the best."

Ryoma snickered even louder, making Tezuka, who was beside Fuji, frown. "Ryoma, what you did might be amusing, but it wasn't nice to Nanjiroh-sensei."

That stopped the snicker that was escaping from the younger's mouth, and replaced it with a defiant pout. "Buchou is a meanie," he sniffed, turning away from Tezuka, who sighed.

Fuji simply smiled. "Now, now, Kunimitsu, let him be," Fuji admonished lightly. "Aren't you proud of him for being able to regain his privileges on his own? And besides, if that ban _had_ been placed, then we wouldn't be able to go anywhere near Ryoma without repercussions. We count as one of his 'sweet addictions' too, don't forget."

Tezuka simply gave a suffering sigh. It was enough that they had more than thirty players to manage. They really didn't need the multitude of varying personalities ridden in those players. Really.

"About what time will you children be finished, hmm?" asked Yukiko, raking her eyes over the crowd of sweaty, tired players down on the floor—some were moving, but most weren't. "You've been at this since early morning! Don't you think that's enough?"

"Tell that to Nan-ji-chan!" grunted Keigo, forcing himself to ignore the icky unpleasant sensation of having his shirt all wet and dirty and sticking to his form adhesively. He looked as though he had already submerged himself in a pool of water already, what with the dredges of sweat pouring off his frame. "We're not the ones who decide our training regimen!"

"Nanjiroh-sensei!" gasped Momoshiro from his end pitifully. "Mou! Enough! Please!"

"Ochibiiiiii—! This is YOUR fault!" screeched Eiji, struggling to push himself off the ground once more.

"How about you try not to scream our ears off and just keep on pushing, huh, carrot head?!" grumbled Gakuto, who was right beside the Seigaku acrobat. As usual, he got the customary hiss-and-froth reaction from Eiji.

"He has a point," sighed Inui, taking a pause from his push ups and holding himself up with one arm as he reached for his bottle of… erm, _refreshment_. He took several gulps, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nanjiroh-sensei is out of it because of what Ryoma did. We might not be ordered to stop until he snaps back into reality."

Groans of trepidation and tiredness erupted from all over the courts, accentuated by more pants and grunts. The setting sun cast what seemed like skin-friendly, warm golden sunbeams on them. But it was far from that. Summers in Miami, Ryoma knew, were unforgiving. The humidity brought about by the sea was not helping either. If anything, it worsened their situation, making the atmosphere musty and hot at the same time. It wasn't really a pleasant experience to work out under that type of weather.

"But I was just defending my self rights!" Ryoma indignantly stated, pausing momentarily to catch his breath.

"Well, you could've done it in a more sanity-friendly way!" grumbled Kirihara, who was panting from over-exertion. "Look at what happened! We're counting over three hundred now, and he's not even stopping us yet! He's totally touched in the head, dude! We were supposed to do only TWO hundred, not a frikkin' thousand!"

"Akaya, language!" snapped Sanada, but was ignored under the heated argument.

"Oh, stop whining and just do it!" snapped Ryoma. "It's called training for a reason!"

Kamio and Momoshiro groaned in unison. "We won't even be able to lift our rackets after this, brat!"

"Are you that weak? Mada mada da ne, senpai-tachi," sneered Ryoma, going for the rile-them-up-and-they'll-shut-up technique, or at least, they'll get off his back to argue with each other.

"Why you gaki—"

"—who the hell do you—"

Kamio and Momoshiro cut each other off, before glaring daggers back and forth. Behind them, Ryoma smirked in satisfaction. _Works wonders every time._

"Onto other things," Yukimura interrupted gently, effectively silencing everyone. Only the captains had that effect on the crowd. "Keigo-kun, is there any news regarding Ryoma-chan's threat letters?"

Heads turned to Keigo as Yukimura raised one of the few matters that were currently raising the tension inside the Atobe manor. For a few days in a row now, Ryoma had been receiving successions of threat letters every evening through constantly differing manners.

The first one was an envelope slipped into his tennis bag's open pocket, which had contained a blood-smeared paper with the word "DIE" on it (Eiji had said it was tasteless and cliché—goodness knows where he managed to learn the definition of the word 'cliché'), along with a dangerous blade that had wounded two of Ryoma's fingers. The second one was a letter tied to a stone that had rocketed dangerously straight towards Ryoma's head while they were running their track through the nearby wood trails. Thankfully, Fuji had been fast and had managed to push Ryoma out of danger's way. The letter contained the same blood-smeared paper with the same word on it, but the blood was fresher.

However, the third one was the one that had raised their hackles up completely. Somebody—and that somebody was pretty skilled to have avoided the security cameras, traps, and guards—had snuck into Ryoma's room one night and attempted to assault the teen during sleep. However, that somebody apparently was not well-informed, and did not know that Ryoma had transferred to a larger suite with Tezuka and Fuji. As such, the room had been empty, startling that somebody. In his/her surprise, that certain somebody had tripped one of the alarms by the room's window—and that had been pretty stupid, considering he/she already managed to avoid it upon entry—and was almost caught.

With that incident, they managed to at least narrow down possibilities, and they now knew that there was a slim possibility of an informant from within the manor. Keigo was, however, alarmed by the fact that they'd managed to avoid guards and security—the traps were disarmed, even—and as such, he ordered a complete reassessment and private reinvestigation of the entire manor's employees from Yuushi (who was a known expert at hacking along with Inui and Renji, having grown up as the heir to a security and safety company).

Add to that, Keigo had doubled security all over the manor to prevent another 'infiltration', and doubled the traps and hidden alarms all over the place, particularly around Ryoma's shared suite with Fuji and Tezuka. The resident brat, of course, proceeded complaining and snarking at Keigo about the cameras and traps—Eiji just _knew_ it was because Ryoma just didn't want to be accidentally caught in one and be humiliated in front of everybody else—but it was fruitless, as the Atobe heir was as decided as hell to protect his own. ("Tch, and now you go around calling me 'your own'? Will you please stop thinking that the world revolves around you, you overgrown brat?" "You're really not in the position to talk, Ryoma. Especially not to ore-sama." "Tch. Pathetic.")

"The people are looking into it, but so far, they've been unsuccessful. Whoever's doing it has skill," Keigo sighed, resuming his push-up counts. He was well past three hundred already, but he was showing no signs of needing to stop. Inwardly, Choutarou wondered how their captain did it.

"It's just the fact that they managed to actually infiltrate the manor that troubles me," Yuushi tersely voiced from his corner with Gakuto. It was a direct insult to him and his family, after all, given that they were the ones who provided the security for all of the Atobe manors worldwide. "The security was supposed to be tight."

"It would help if there was a lead of some sort," Renji inputted. "Echizen-kun, do you know people who might have a grudge against you of some sort?"

Ryoma snorted. "I'm an international athlete. Of _course_ there are people who have grudges against me. There are _lots_. Those other loser players I've beaten before, the ones who're sore losers… those who play dirty… those who want my position and fame… those who want to get rid of me to seize the championship… those who are just plain annoyed with me… so we're practically looking at everyone I've played against and their cousins, aren't we?"

"I can see why they're annoyed," muttered Momoshiro off on the corner, looking away as Ryoma sent a blazing glare his way.

"Actually, I think this isn't from some anti-Ryoma sports fan, or a formerly beaten player," Fuji started, calling attention to himself as he started to explain between pants. He had never been—and would likely never be—the type who had big muscles to support his sport (but he _did_ have endurance and strength despite his slight frame). "Someone would be definitely angry at Ryoma's—ahh—bratty attitude (which tends to go a tad overboard at times, I admit) but… I don't think it'll go this far."

That statement left the courts silent once again as the other players tried digesting what the tensai had just said.

"So you're saying that there's someone else behind this?" clarified Inui.

Fuji smiled cryptically. "Not essentially. Who knows? We don't really know."

There was silence, before simultaneous suffering sighs were released.

"Ever heard of a straight answer, Fujiko?" Eiji deadpanned.

"No, not really," smiled Fuji innocently, letting the sweat drip off the tip of his nose and onto the ground beneath him.

Grumbles surrounded him as the players tried pulling out some new idea regarding the threat letters Ryoma had been receiving for continuous evenings now. Ryoma remained silent, scowling and staring at his injured fingers wrapped in Band-Aid. He still hadn't forgiven whoever sent the stupid blade.

"Aren't we going to stop yet?" panted Kamio, grunting as he tried pushing himself up once more—and failing.

Rinko, who was sitting behind Nanjiroh, sighed and placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Nanjiroh. They're being overworked. How about we stop this and let's all settle for dinner?"

"No!" Nanjiroh refused vehemently, clutching his obscene _incrimimating_ precious magazines to his chest. "No! Me no let them! They hurt me! They steal me collection! They hurt me collection!"

Rinko and Yukiko shared exasperated glances, before uniformly sighing. "Come now, Nanjiroh. I promise I won't let Ryoma steal your collections again—" _I'll steal them myself!_ "—and I won't let him bring it out by the cliffs and drop it down!" _I'll burn it in the backyard instead!_ "And I promise I won't draw on it using a marker—" _I'll lather it graciously in rotten tomato sauce!_ "—and I won't rip the pages off and use it to pick up naughty Karupin's stray litters—" _Maybe I'll donate it to use as toilet paper instead?_ "—and I won't chop up the covers to feed that termite colony one of these youths have—" _I'll give it to Inui-kun to use for his experiments instead!_ "—and I won't harm them ever, I swear!" _Like, duh._

"…" Nanjiroh was speechless and teary-eyed as Rinko finished a fast synopsis of what Ryoma had done to torment his father into giving back the said 'stolen priveleges' prior. By the time she was finished, more than half the court was snickering (though most were trying to hide it for fear of more punishme—err, training).

"Nanjiroh?" Rinko prodded.

Nanjiroh sniffed loudly, standing and turning his nose up, before sweeping out of the patio. "Fine, suit yourselves! –_sniff_— Nobody loves me anyway! –_sniff_— I hate you all!"

And with that, the coach walked out—well, more specifically, he _darted_ out—sniffling like a kid whose candy just got stolen.

The court was frozen and silent for a while, before everyone broke into suppressed laughter and snickers as they rose from the floor and started stretching their sore and overworked muscles. Chatter started echoing louder around the area, as moans and groans accentuating the lively noise.

"Hai, hai, minna, drink plenty of water and then go take a long hot bath while we prepare the dinner for you!" Yukiko ushered, receiving yells of triumph and victory all over the place.

Echoes of 'arigato' and 'tired' and 'finally' resounded through the entire compounds, and outside, several guards amusedly chuckled at the antics of the young people. It was rare, after all, to have so many guests stay at the manor for such a long time—and all youngsters at that! The place was once again lively after a long time of rest and silence.

* * *

Keigo sighed, sinking into the plush leather sofa in his personal office and letting the soft melodies of Chopin's Nocturne wash through his being gently and in a cleansing manner. He so wanted to just go to bed and snuggle with his human plush—otherwise known as Jiroh—and sleep. He let out a groan. 

_That thought shouts heaven…_

He gave the pile of paperwork sitting on his desk a baleful glance, at the same time mentally sending whispers of pain and suffering to his father who was currently blissfully asleep already. He was the clan's _future head_. He was the_ heir._ He was _not supposed to be doing this work YET!_

He grumbled, sighing and fishing his pen from where it had been resting by the papers and resuming his work, scanning over the papers—files, requests, affidavits, validations—half-heartedly and signing away. Had he not been concerned for his family's fortune—which spelled his luxury—he would not have been doing that work. However, it was dangerous to let others into these kind of matters, and so the family had decided to handle it themselves (which most probably was a good idea considering how many scammers and liars were out there).

His mind was a flutter of thoughts, a mess between the business, Ryoma, the threat letters, practice, the competition—things that would normally be no-brainers, but when piled up become headache-inducers. So far, the most pressing matter was the threat letters—it was no mystery that it had him unsettled. If somebody could sneak into the manor just like that, then they were _not_ safe. What would have happened if Ryoma was _indeed_ sleeping alone in his rooms and devoid of Fuji and Tezuka's guard? What if that alarm had never tripped—would that intruder have walked past their beds and drugged them all or did something analogously harmful to them?

His hand subconsciously paused on the paper, smudging the black ink he was using with his fountain pen. He didn't even realize, though, that he was messing up the paper he was holding, whatever it was. He was just too worried…

A knock pushed him out of his reverie, and he shifted in surprise, discarding the messed-up paper and settling his pen on the holder nearby. "Come in."

"Keigo," came a familiar voice, and in came Yuushi's vaguely silhouetted form. The only light lit inside the office was the lamp desk and the small candle flickering on top of the antique tall candle holder. The Oshitari heir approached Keigo, who was raising an eyebrow.

"Anything I can do for you?" inquired the Atobe heir, leveling his eyes with his long-time friend and to-be business partner. "Or have they found something?"

"Regarding the threat letters, I've already told you my suspicions about that," pointed out Yuushi. "And this confirms it." He placed a folder in front of Keigo as he sat on one of the plush chairs opposite the desk, before crossing his arms expectantly and waiting for Keigo to start reading.

"And what's this…?" Keigo voiced, opening the folder and beginning to read slowly. As he went further down the page, however, his face acquired a sour expression. By the time he was finished with the first page, he was sick to his core. He slammed the paper on the table, the loud echoing impact shattering the peaceful atmosphere around him. "…that bastard."

"They're filing a claim over 25 percent over the entire financial pool, Keigo," Yuushi pointed out unnecessarily. "This _does_ prove that theory I thought of, but this is bad news. The business—"

"I know, Yuushi, I _know_," Keigo hissed in annoyance, standing up smoothly and heading for the side table by the wall that held the champagnes and wines. He pulled out a Shiraz and poured himself a generous amount. "The business part of it I know. I just don't get why it's Ryoma they're targeting!"

Yuushi's lip curled in amusement, noting that Keigo was more worried about Ryoma than the business, even with the knowledge that his priorities must be set the other way around. Business and politics with emotions, after all, don't produce a very good result. However, he kept his lips zipped and didn't point out this dire fact to Keigo, knowing that the Atobe heir knew it himself, and respecting the very generous amount of caring he was giving to the said Seigaku brat.

"Isn't it because they know Ryoma's a precious childhood _friend_ and an almost brother to you?" suggested Yuushi, nodding his thanks as he took the offered glass of Shiraz from Keigo. "I mean, hey, it's _you_, for goodness' sake. You don't really have all that much 'significant others' in your life, except for Jiroh, Ryoma, your parents…"

Keigo snorted and raised an eyebrow as Yuushi didn't include himself in a show of modesty, but didn't comment on it. "I find that reason somehow lacking."

"It's the only feasible reason I can think of," shrugged Yuushi, taking a sip of his wine.

Silence prevailed over the room once again as the two of them sat face to face under the lamplight.

"Then again, maybe they just hate Ryoma and they think they're hitting two birds with one stone by doing this," shrugged Keigo, chuckling. "Goodness knows Ryoma can piss of _anybody _when he wants to."

Yuushi raised a glass in agreement. "He can push people's buttons anytime and anyhow he wants. I think he also has a bone to settle with Davinia."

"The bitch?" snorted Keigo. "What about her?"

"Heard from some of the guards watching the cameras," Yuushi chuckled. "Apparently, the girl was trying to hit on Tezuka in one of the ballroom lounges, but then Ryoma came in with that traditional kimono you made him wear. I'm sure you as much as I do know that no one can resist him in that, not even the infallible Tezuka."

Keigo sniggered uncharacteristically. "A copy, Yuushi?"

"Sure," shrugged Yuushi. "I'll give it to you tomorrow. Are you adding it to your Ryoma archive again?"

Keigo sniffed as if it was a rhetorical question.

Yuushi burst out in laughter, shaking his head. "Keigo, I swear, you have a long-running incurable addiction to Ryoma, and you're neck-deep into it! If you didn't have Jiroh, I'd swear you'd be jumping Ryoma."

"Even if I want to, I can't, stupid," Keigo grumbled, nudging his head towards the direction of the framed Atobe Group of Companies emblem on the wall. "Heir responsibilities, you know, the 'getting-married-before-you-can-even-walk' business."

"Thank God we got out of that," Yuushi sighed in relief.

"But we _still_ have to give heirs," sighed Keigo sadly. "Eurgh. Sleeping with a girl."

Yuushi's lip curled in antipathy. Even the statement itself was a no-no. He shook his head to clear himself of such thoughts, before turning back to the serious matter at hand. "In any case, I'll look further into what exactly they're planning to do with the money they're trying to get."

"Add their reason for targeting Ryoma to your list, if you please."

"That's a given," sighed Yuushi. "Of course I'll do that."

The two of them remained in silence for a few minutes longer, before Yuushi placed his empty wine glass on the table and stood smoothly. "I'd better get some sleep. We're going to be working horses again tomorrow."

"No, we're not," sniffed Keigo, making Yuushi stop and turn. "We're going to the Lent manor tomorrow."

This time, Yuushi's brows rose beyond his hairline. "And Your Majesty would bring himself to the lowly level of the Lents and step into their manor for what reason, might I humbly ask?" he leered, however incredulously.

Keigo glared hotly at Yuushi, before downing the rest of his Shiraz in one gulp. "Mother wants another one of those—urgh—_pictorials_," he all but spat through gritted teeth, tempted to substitute 'torture sessions' for the word 'pictorials'. "She wants to use the gardens for the backgrounds, those gardens she and Sayo-oba-san tended to long ago. I admit the _Flor de Luna_ garden is exquisite, as well as the calla lily collection. I think mother got tired of the customary roses and tulips."

"Well, then, I suppose we're all going to be having _fun_ tomorrow since there's _no training_," smirked Yuushi, before sweeping hurriedly out of the room before Keigo could pick up the nearest hurl-able material—which happened to be a genuine antique Egyptian jar that used to be in Nefertiri's private bathing quarters and contained the fragrant oils she used for bathing—and let it soar overhead.

Keigo seethed in isolation, before pausing and contemplating on tomorrow's schedule.

Silence.

"I'm so dead."

* * *

"Yadda!!" 

"Ryoma—"

"YADDA! GO AWAY!"

"—be reasonable here—"

"YADDA, YADDA, YADDA, DON'T COME NEAR ME, YADDA!"

"It's just for _one_ shot—"

"I'M NOT WEARING THAT—THAT—INDESCRIBABLY, OTHERWORLDLY, INDUBITABLY UGLY—_THING_!! YADDA, GO AWAY!!"

Behind Keigo—who was actively trying to latch onto Ryoma and placate the flailing, swatting, running, screaming, convulsing, _everything_-ing teen—Yukiko and Rinko both sighed sighs of relief, thanking the heavens above for the fact that the hired internationally acclaimed designer (especially commissioned by Yukiko from the Escada Group) was not completely fluent in Japanese despite his expertise at Eastern attire, and could not understand what Ryoma was babbling about—and therefore not knowing that his creation had just been insulted past the seven levels of hell and back.

Kevin sighed in exasperation, nudging the chuckling Toushi behind him to keep quiet and to not trigger Ryoma to launch into an even bigger fit (if that was even possible). Tezuka, Fuji, and Keigo were all now trying to detach Ryoma from one of the tall Roman pillars he had somehow managed to climb and was not latched firmly onto. He was clutching the pillar—which was so big in girth that his arms didn't even manage halfway—like a lifeline and was making no move to get away despite the efforts of the others trying to get him off. He looked like he wasn't desperate to come down and wouldn't be anytime soon.

Ryoma, after having been separated from the tennis courts, reverted to the same old spoiled brat he was being a few days ago, especially after being notified about the pictorial (also known as TTS—The Torture Session). It was just earlier that morning when he was told about it, and it was also just earlier that morning when he suddenly retracted his regained maturity to jump back to being the spoiled baby brat that he was.

"Come now, Ryoma-chan," Fuji crooned. "It's just for a few minutes. Just a few shots."

"Yaddaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" Ryoma whinged, the sound muffled because of his cheek pressed against the stone pillar.

"Ryoma-chan…" Fuji sighed.

"Syuu-chan, they're turning you evil too! You're making me wear that—_thing_ too! Demo YADDA! YADDA, YADDA, YADDA, YADDA!"

Keigo growled in annoyance. He knew by experience that once Ryoma was being pigheaded like this, there was no turning him unless he was really _forced_ to. He also knew by experience that brute force was one of the few things that got Ryoma forced. He marched forward, raising his arms in an attempt to practically _rip_ him off the pillar, but apparently, Ryoma _knew_ him too.

The younger teen reached out a curled his fingers, his fairly sharp fingernails poised. And with that, he began to swat at Keigo frantically with one arm in an effort to push the persistent Atobe heir away. He hissed and frothed and frizzled like an offended cat, raising his hackles and continuing to swat viciously.

Keigo, of course, drew away in fear of ruining his perfect face. He knew more than anybody else how sharp Ryoma's nails (also known as claws) could be, after all.

Seeing that Keigo was backing off, Ryoma stopped swatting and resumed clinging to the pillar, turning his head away from them defiantly. "You'll NEVER get me to wear that. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda."

Kevin blandly poked Keigo on the back. "You _do_ know he's not gonna be coming down from up there until you do something _really_ drastic, don't you."

Keigo simply hissed, and Kevin chortled, knowing that the other was as now totally royally pissed off. "I'm not liking this either, but he's just being unreasonable!" grumbled Keigo silently, kneading his forehead with his fingers. "Ugh, he's giving me a headache."

"But you _love_ him, Kei-chan, so you _won't_ be doing the 'something drastic' part," Yuushi drawled from a few feet behind them, his voice carrying outstandingly well due to the gallery's excellent acoustics. The garden was being set up outside, and they could see it from the open balcony, but right now, they weren't really worried about that. Right now, the concern was how to get the griping Ryoma off the pillar.

"Shut up, Yuushi," snapped Keigo and Ryoma, ignoring Kevin's agreement expressed in the form of an uncontrolled giggle.

Tezuka frowned, sighing. "Ryoma."

A baleful glare.

"_Ryoma._"

Silence.

"Ryoma, get down from there _now_, or _else_…"

Tezuka let the statement hang in the air ominously, his _buchou _voice effectively drawing the petulant Ryoma's attention to himself. The captain stared at Ryoma expectantly, a hint of a glare in those steady eyes of his. Ryoma was caught into it, trying to fight the captain's will, but alas…

"—_sniffle—_ Buchou is _being mean_!!" sniffed Ryoma. Not being able to resist a direct order from Tezuka _with his 'XX-laps'__buchou_ voice, he dropped himself from the pillar and darted to Fuji's embrace. He buried his face into his boyfriend's chest. His voice was muffled as he spoke, but it was comprehensible. "All of you hate me! –_sniffle—_ All of you are being mean! I hate you! _–sniffle—_ I hate you!!"

"Hush, hush, darling, hush," Fuji murmured to Ryoma, arms coming around the smaller frame now latched onto him. He gently rubbed the younger teen's back, sending a flat glance to Tezuka, which was returned with a resigned sigh.

"Ryoma, come now, it's just a few shots, okay?" Tezuka pushed, placing a hand on top of Ryoma's head. "And it's just a yukata. It's not even what you wore last time, remember?"

"Last time?" echoed Eiji.

"Last time? What last time?" followed Momoshiro.

But Ryoma only wailed louder against Fuji.

"_Please_, Ryoma," Tezuka sighed. "Let's not make this take longer than it has to, okay? The faster you cooperate, the sooner we finish."

Ryoma whinged and stomped his feet, but nevertheless detached his face from Fuji and sniffled as nodded and hugged Tezuka in apology. Tezuka sighed and petted and hugged the teen as requested, a rare show of intimacy in front of other prying eyes. Despite the downtrodden and bratty mood Ryoma was in, he couldn't help but purr. It wasn't everyday that Tezuka threw caution into the air, after all.

* * *

Ryoma dully tugged at the thin fabric of the dark green and gold yukata he was wearing, squirming against the tight obi around his waist and wriggling in his seat. It was stiflingly hot despite the open windows and the thin silk cloth he was wearing. Due to the fit he was throwing about an hour ago, they were delayed for another few hours. As such, it was already noon, and the sun was at its zenith. According to Yukiko, however, it didn't matter, since the photographer she'd commissioned was apparently going to be late due to some travel complications. 

And so there they were, stuck waiting for the photographer in the middle of the stifling Miami heat.

Ryoma grumbled audibly, nudging Keigo, who was sitting beside him on the sofa and sipping on a cocktail to cool himself off. "Keigo, are our hosts _that_ uncouth?"

Keigo snorted, snapping his fingers. Immediately, one of his assistants (more accurately known as slaves) rushed forward and started fanning him and Ryoma. "They might as well be. It is pure stupidity and irresponsibility to leave guests unattended while they cook under a burning 40 degrees, for kami's sake! This heat is not healthy for ore-sama's beautiful skin!"

Amused snorts came from Kevin, Ryoma, and Yuushi, while sighs of boredom and frustration echoed around the room multiple times. A few more minutes of silence ensued, before Momoshiro voiced a silent sleepy question. "What's the name of photographer-san anyway?"

"He goes by the pseudonym 'Ryuuka'," Yukiko replied, not noticing both Kevin and Toushi's surprised eyes. "Internationally acclaimed, but he makes himself extremely scarce and hard to get a hold of for interviews and such. However, when you ask him to do a photography session, he's all game. He just doesn't like the media, I suppose. He's a long-time favorite of the family, and he's been filming and shooting for us for around twenty years now, and counting."

"Wow," whistled Eiji. "Sounds like a really great person."

"He is," chuckled Fuji, stirring his cocktail with his finger and then licking it clean sensually.

"Oh yeah, Fuji, you know him, don't you?" Oishi noted.

Fuji nodded absently, this time playing with the little umbrella on his cocktail glass. "He was the one who taught me the basics of photography when I was a little child."

"He taught you photography?" echoed both Toushi and Kevin incredulously. The tone of incredulity piqued Keigo's interest.

"Yes, he did," Fuji nodded, quirking an eyebrow. "Is there something peculiar about that?"

Both teens remained silent as they looked at each other, before Toushi shook his head in negation. "No, not really."

"We kind of just know him as a famous photographer," Kevin added smilingly, leaning back against the sofa.

"Kevin, didn't Fuji already mention that a few nights ago?" pointed out Ryoma. "Hora, the night after the dinner with the Atobes."

"Oh, yeah!" Kevin remarked. "Eh, I kind of, urm, forgot?" he chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. He honestly _did_ forget, and it was what he had wanted to tell Toushi the past few days but couldn't remember.

"'Taku," snorted Ryoma, shaking his head in exasperation. "You're hopeless," he sniffed, leaning close to Tezuka and resting his head on the captain's shoulder. Tezuka wordlessly adjusted his arm so that it went around Ryoma's shoulders and allowed him to lean fully without obstacles.

The silence was undisturbed for a few more minutes, the only sounds being the bare rustling of the leaves outside and the trickling water from the wall fountain in one side of the room. Servants flurried around them soundlessly, refilling their refreshments endlessly, but it was silent. It was too hot to be noisy, so everyone was silent.

Then suddenly the door slammed open. Momoshiro dropped the glass he was holding, and it crashed into splinters on the floor. Eiji yelped like an offended cat, jerking violently and knocking over a vase on the table he was sitting by. Luckily, Oishi caught it before it crashed to the floor as well. Grumbles once again echoed through the room, and Nanjiroh loudly whinged as his magazine was slightly wetted by some spilled juice.

The Lents, all three abominations of them, entered.

Yukiko immediately stood, approaching them. All smile and grace, the Atobe matriarch walked forth with jovial greetings as if they weren't burning under the heat like they were in hell, and there wasn't a single disgruntlement in her world. "Richard! Verna! I'm _so_ glad you made it!" ("Hunya. Now I know where Atobe-san got his talents in lying.")

Richard rumbled in laughter. "Why, of course! It's not everyday you have visitors in the manor, you know!" he said with a grin. ("Well, maybe that's because _no one really wants to visit_. Tch." "Neko-chan, be polite.")

Keigo silently sighed, frowning. During that dinner night, he'd asked Yuushi to research regarding Sayo's death and her alleged abuse from Richard, having had his interest peaked once more from Toushi's story and, curiously enough, another factor that was bothering him increasingly the past few days. He'd been observing silently, but he wasn't able to pick up any clues. Nevertheless, he just told himself that this was like one of those puzzles he loved to solve when he was little.

As he now observed Richard, he figured that he really wasn't that much of a bad man. Keigo had guessed that the pressures and responsibilities had driven him to be the way he was, which was the common case when it came to leaders of rich, purebred families that placed sky-high expectations on every single one of its members—especially those higher-ups. Richard was still human—a human that felt anger, happiness, spite, hurt… love.

However, Keigo wondered deeply if he _did_ love Sayo. According to some other relatives, the man _did_ love her, but from what was evident right now, that possibility seemed scarce. He took a sip of his extra-cold, subzero-chilled cocktail, before sighing again. He was contemplating on the possibility of something—some event or circumstance or problem—that might have triggered a change of heart in Richard. Alright, it might not have been a complete change of heart, but something enough to get over Sayo _that_ quickly, something that urged him to replace her immediately just like that with some common whore he must have filched from the back alleys of the streets.

And he knew that Sayo gave him a son. No, actually, as it turned out, Sayo had _two_ sons, one supposedly dead, and the other sitting with him in the same room right that very moment. And while he admitted that Sayo was not as good in business as Yukiko or Rinko were, that was not enough reason to 'dispose' of her, as was the customary term, and replace her with Verna, who gave him a _daughter_.

A _useless_ one at that.

So there was _really_ no reason to replace her.

Unless of course Richard knew about the affair with Toushi's father—Keigo glanced at Toushi, who was eyeing Richard and the exit alternatively while inching slowly away from the Lents like they were the next plague—and grew jealous about it.

Keigo was startled out of his thoughts when a hand grabbed his and tugged furiously. He swiveled his head around to meet Ryoma's eyes dead on. "Sorry?"

"You weren't listening?!" hissed Ryoma crossly. "The pestilences snort want to take pictures with us, even without the photographer. I mean _all_ of us. The others are escaping one by one already. Come on, I don't wanna stay here no longer!" he furiously whispered, nearly tugging Keigo's arm off.

The Atobe heir glanced at the edge of the room where there was a door leading to another adjacent lounge and eyed Fuji, who was discreetly tugging Tezuka along and creeping out of sight. On the opposite side by the windows, he watched Eiji and Momoshiro tumble out of the pointed-arch open windows, while Kamio and Kaidoh were crawling out through the patio and hiding underneath the tables and sofas. More than half of them had already disappeared somewhere, including Kevin, Toushi, the Rikkai trio, and a few others.

"Come on!" hissed Ryoma. "Stand up! Up, up!"

Keigo silently settled his glass on the table before him, unfolding his crossed legs and keeping an eye on the Lents and Yukiko and Rinko, who were engaged in active conversation. The Lents were luckily facing away from them. He stood and padded silently along with Ryoma, stepping over the railing lining the half-moon-shaped uncovered patio and slipping into the nearby tall decorative hedges for cover.

And they were gone.

"…fun at the theatre that night, and—" Rinko smilingly relayed, before faltering and pausing completely. She glanced around the room, and soon after the four beside her looked around as well.

The room was empty, devoid of a single person. Empty juice glasses and half-full cocktails were all over the room, and the sofas and pillows were in disarray. A quilt was draped over one of the windows, half of it hanging outside, as if it'd been dragged by someone hopping out.

"Huh? Where'd they all go?" Verna voiced with a Texan accent. It was a wonder why she spoke that way, considering she was from North Dakota and not Texas. "What about the pictures?"

* * *

Davinia twirled a lock of her hair around her finger in absence of thought, with a scowl on her face present as was common these past few days. She kept her eyes trained out the pointed-arched Gothic window adorning one of the lounge rooms inside the spacious Lent manor. She was not happy with the current arrangements, no, she was not. She did not see the point her father had been trying to explain to her the previous night. She did not see the point of neither having to entertain those brainless twits from Japan, nor having to once again step into that accursed garden her mother had closed off long ago. 

Davinia did not see what was so amazing with Sayo in the first place. She was a _dead person_, for goodness' sake. She was already replaced in the world of the Lents. She should already be forgotten! But no; she was being used as a stereotype for an ideal wife, and she was being used as comparison for the current wife!

The auburn-haired girl frowned. Why were there such annoyances in her life anyway? Why couldn't she live a happy life like other people do? What was so bad about wanting happiness? What was so bad about it? It was normal, wasn't it? Human nature, as they say. But then in any situation they were placed in, she was treated as the lesser one. The bad breed. The _bête noire._

_Why_ was it so?!

She kept on hearing people saying that if she changed for the better, she'd be perfect. But how would she do that? She didn't know anything _better_ than what she currently was. This was how she was reared and raised. This was what she was taught. This was _the only thing she knew_.

It was unfair, all of it. Unfair.

She slightly leaned against the wall, turning her vision around and letting the portraits aligned on the wall enter her peripheral vision. She sighed heavily and screwed her eyes shut, letting her head fall down and her hands come up to cover her face. She slowly sank down against the wall, trying to push out the image of a smiling Keigo painted on canvas and hung on the wall.

Trying to push out the image of her father ranting on and on about Keigo and Keigo only.

The image of her mother forsaking her for the sake of her friends.

The truth of her being used for money.

The notion that she herself was not enough.

Simply not enough.

She rested her forehead against her knee, not caring that her tank top was riding up and the wall was rubbing irritatingly against the bare skin of her lower back. She hugged her knees, crumpling to a corner in the small lounge room she was in.

She was all alone, and it was all because of _him._

And _yet_…

She sighed, turning her head to the side and looking out towards the garden beyond the open porch of the lounge room.

And _yet_, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. She couldn't bring herself to hate him because she liked him. She'd liked him since forever. She'd obsessed over him for endless nights, even though she shouldn't, even though she knew that he was the reason why she was being ignored and sold off. She knew that Keigo was the reason.

She knew.

And _yet…_

Her head snapped up, squinting against the mid-afternoon sun's yellow blinding flare. She slowly rose, keeping her eyes trained to the two entwined figures under one of the oldest trees—a willow that, apparently, was favoring her—and frowning. The vines and branches of the willow tree perfectly framed the two figures, but did nothing to hide them, and essentially beating its purpose.

"Keigo…?" she murmured, rising completely and walking towards the porch, stopping by the door. "Keigo and… _that wench!!_"

Her crystal clear 20/20 vision noted how Keigo gently petted the pitch black hair on the head rested against his chest, how he softly read the book that he was holding with one hand, how his eyes softened as he stared at the sleeping figure resting against him.

And she started seething.

* * *

"…But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Will  
How soon they find fit Instruments of Ill!  
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting Grace  
A two-edg'd Weapon from her shining Case;  
So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,  
Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight.  
He takes the Gift with rev'rence, and extends  
The little Engine on his Finger's Ends:  
This just behind Belinda's Neck he spread,  
As o'er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head." 

Ryoma sighed, snuggling his head against Keigo's chest as the said young man's voice washed over him like a steady stream of water, cleansing and refreshing. The soft mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through the foliage spread above their heads, the draping vines and branches of the old willow tree effectively shielding the two of them from view and giving them the privacy they desired. His Kuni-bu was currently busy with Nanjiroh and Tachibana, and his Syuu-chan was also currently preoccupied somewhere—in short, nowhere to be found (most probably doing something harmful to someone pitiable somewhere dark and danky).

He was seated on the taller teen's lap, his head buried against the soft cotton of the polo shirt covering the other's chest. He was the one who'd pilfered Keigo from the tea party (for the lack of a better word) and dragged him to where they were—an ancient hang of theirs, frequented since childhood when they visited the Lent manor—after sneaking into the library and also pilfering a random classic book to be read to him while he napped. He'd always liked being read to while sleeping. It somehow calmed him.

And Keigo was his favorite reader.

"Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprights repair,  
A thousand Wings, by turns, blow back the Hair,  
And thrice they twitch'd the Diamond in her Ear,  
Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the Foe drew near.  
Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought  
The close Recesses of the Virgin's Thought;  
As on the Nosegay in her Breast reclin'd,  
He watch'd th' Ideas riding in her Mind,  
Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her Art,  
An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart.  
Amaz'd, confus'd, he found his Pow'r expir'd,  
Resign'd to Fate, and with a Sigh retir'd."

He frowned, moving his head to the side and sniffing in disdain. As he did so, the calming scent that was Keigo filtered gently into his nostrils. _**"That's just stupid. They're all stupid."**_

Keigo raises an eyebrow and hides his smile as he shifted his legs slightly so as not to let them numb under Ryoma's weight, and in doing so exaggerating their already overly intimate position. A generous portion of Ryoma's evenly tanned thighs was revealed as the cloth covering it slid slowly up. _**"You were the one who picked the book,"**_ Keigo pointedly remarked, brandishing the book lightly before Ryoma's face and lightly touching the top of the spine on top of Ryoma's nose.

Ryoma swatted at it and grumbled. _**"Well it's a stupid book. It was stupid when it started and it's still stupid now."**_

Keigo chuckled in amusement. "_**I did tell you it was a parody of the family feud between one Arabella Fermor and her suitor, Lord Petre."**_

"_**See?"**_ Ryoma pouted. _**"Even their names are stupid. They're all stupid. She's stupid. He's stupid. Their families are stupid. Those fairies are stupid. One of them is going to get cut in half, right? So they're stupid!"**_

Keigo was unable to hide the amused twinkle in his eyes. _**"If you say so, darling Prince," **_he murmured, placing a soft kiss on Ryoma's forehead as the younger teen resumed snuggling and wriggling around to get more comfortable. Keigo wordlessly shifted for the younger's convenience.

"…_**still say they're all stupid…"**_ Ryoma murmured sleepily as Keigo picked up from where he left. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered close, his breathing slowing as the steady rhythm of Keigo's warmly beating heart lulled him to peaceful sleep. The voice continuing the reading resumed washing through him and relieving him of the stresses he was carrying: the stresses of a pressured professional tennis player, of a coping lover, of a struggling best friend, of an unforgiving and pained younger brother, of a perfect son.

* * *

Ryuuka smiled wistfully as he entered the manor once again after almost fifteen years of absence. 

"Welcome back, Ryuuka-sama," bowed Katsura, Keigo's majordomo and primary caretaker since childhood. "It has been a long time since this mansion has last seen you."

Ryuuka chuckled, rubbing the back of his head and adjusting his hold on his big black bulky bag full of his work tools. "Konnichiwa, Katsura-san. It's been such a long time, ne," he greeted. "Honestly speaking, I never imagined I'd be returning to this manor. It's been so long since I've gotten a commission from the Atobe family that I kind of thought you found a replacement for me and would never call me again! I'm only a freelance photographer, after all."

"We both know that that's not the reason you haven't been commissioned for such a long time, Ryuuka-san," smiled Katsura, guiding Ryuuka in. "Congratulations on your successful photography tour and exhibit. I heard it took you around seven years to finish the work and the exhibit setup, but it did pay off, did it not?"

Ryuuka nodded. "It did, it definitely did. I enjoyed it despite the hard work," remarked Ryuuka, his eyes roaming around the manor and taking in the changes wordlessly. He knew that there was a new mistress of the house, since he'd been there during the first wife's funeral ceremony. "What wasn't fun, though, was the work _after_ the exhibit. I honestly didn't expect the sudden flood of requests and commissions. It surprised me beyond words."

"That only shows your popularity, Ryuuka-san," chuckled the elderly man beside him, before one of the helpers took his bag. "We'll take your equipments and take it to the studio room for you. Would you like to do your customary pre-pictorial shooting first?"

"Yes, please," nodded Ryuuka, before handing over his bag. "Careful with the far end—the F-mounts are in that big pocket."

The men ambled out of the welcoming lounge and Katsura bowed his way out, leaving Ryuuka to his own.

The man, around his mid-forties, was pretty well-built and good-looking. One would assume he played a sport because of his frame. The stark light brown hair dotted with blonde, despite the grainy appearance, did not downgrade his looks. In fact, it acted as the perfect background for his bright emerald eyes. He had rectangular glasses on as well, adding a respectable and professional look to his countenance.

He made a beeline for the huge doors to the right, where he knew the old gallery rooms were. It was customary for Atobe manors to have galleries, and as was customary for Atobe family galleries, all formal and informal portraits of all the members of the family—and friends along with it, if included—were put up, irregardless of issues otherwise questioning their inclusion in the family (i.e. disownment, offense, crime against relatives). Everyone was there: the living and the dead, the celebrated and the unpopular, the in and the out.

He started walking around, holding up his expensive Nikon D2Xs to set it to the proper mode according to the indoor lighting, including the exposure compensation and ISO he wanted. Taking a few snapshots here and there as he walked through the hallways, reliving the old times when he worked full-time as a photographer signed under the Atobe family. He remembered it was Yukiko, Sayo, and Rinko who were enthusiasts about photographs and portraits, and as such, it was them who'd scouted and hired him.

He walked down a few more steps, taking snapshots and chuckling occasionally as he came upon portraits he shot and developed back then. He remembered that his favorite models were Sayo, Keigo, and Keigo's friend Ryoma. Sayo was a given; her beauty was ethereal and once in a lifetime. Keigo, meanwhile, was interesting because of the child's photogenic nature. No matter what pose or what angle or what style Ryuuka used didn't matter. The photo would turn out great.

_On the other hand, Ryoma…_

He smiled as he came upon one of the largest portraits in the gallery. He knew that this particular one could be found in all of the Atobe manors worldwide, because it was Yukiko and Miyagi's mutual favorite.

_**Flashback**_

"_Stay still, Ryoma!" called Ryuuka, moving behind his tripod and adjusting the camera. There were about thirty seconds of silence and zero movement, before Ryoma started squirming again._

_Keigo sighed, adjusting Ryoma's position and returning rapidly to his own. "How many times do I tell you—one does _not_ squirm! It's improper!"_

"_But Keiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…" whined Ryoma, stomping his feet and squirming in his haori and hakama__, tugging and pulling desperately at his clothes. "…I'm not comfy!"_

_Ryuuka sighed in exasperation. "At this rate, we won't ever finish, you two," he remarked, readjusting his camera and telling them to get in position again. He sneezed lightly, mentally cursing the pollinated air. They were currently out in a meadow near the Oklahoma manor for a fall pictorial. The trees were as good as on fire, what with the __bright oranges, the brilliant reds, and the stunning yellows__ adorning them. The sun was up, but it darted in and out of cloud formations, offering him different lighting situations._

"_It's not my fault," sniffed Keigo haughtily, staring down disapprovingly at the shorter Ryoma._

_Ryoma only whined a louder, high-pitched whine._

_Ryuuka sighed, straightening up and contemplating his choices. He only had a few more hours before the men came back to pick them up for dinner, and they _had_ to be there, since everyone—the entire nuclear Echizen family and the nuclear Atobe family—was there. He had to get some good snaps and get them fast._

_He silently pondered, watching Keigo reach over to Ryoma and loosen the waist knot slightly to get the other boy to stop whining. After adjusting the knot, Keigo proceeded in fussing over Ryoma's hair, while Ryoma knelt down and reached out his finger to a squirrel that had somehow strayed towards them. Ryoma started tugging at Keigo's haori sleeve to get the older boy's attention, while Keigo chuckled and watch Ryoma play with the squirrel. Keigo crouched down, but not as low as Ryoma, and placed an arm around the younger boy, while reaching out his finger to the squirrel tentatively._

_Snap!_

_Ryuuka grinned. Ye__s. T__here was no need to pose. He could get them to play around naturally, and he would get awesome shots. He set his camera to Burst Mode so that he would capture the motion photos in perfect clarity. "Keigo, Ryoma," he called again._

_The two children looked up inquiringly, and the squirrel scurried away. "Hai?"_

"_I want you to just act normally and play around. I'll be taking shots, but don't mind me, okay? Play some game."_

_Keigo and Ryoma looked at each other, not really getting what Ryuuka wanted them to do. "A game? Like… tag?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, tag would be good," nodded Ryuuka, smiling. He pulled out a coin and ushered the two kids to come over. "Let's flip. Whoever gets it wrong will be it."_

_In the end, it had been Ryoma who got it right, and immediately, the boy darted out of Keigo's reach nimbly. Ryuuka absently pondered, as he started snapping away, how fast Ryoma would become eventually as he grew older. From only a few years of practice—well, it wasn't even _real_ practice; it was just Nanjiroh jeering at the boy to get a shot across—the boy managed to learn the basics and could now make smooth solid shots. He was only seven, and yet his footwork was that not of a beginner. And the speed—the speed was just indescribable. It was as if Ryoma had been born to move and to _play.

_The two kids were shrieking in laughter as Keigo tried to catch the agile Ryoma darting around the meadow. But alas, Ryoma stubbed his foot against a stray stone and tipped and fell forward. However, Keigo dashed and managed to gain, catching Ryoma just in the nick of time._

_SNAP!_

_**End of Flashback**_

Ryuuka smiled at the image of the two children in the meadow hung on the wall, framed with gold and silver. Ryuuka had been crouching down low to get to the children's eye level, and he had, by chance, changed the angle and pointed his camera upwards instead of directly horizontal.

Against a background of burning colors, Ryoma and Keigo were caught in a frozen tango, the elder clutching Ryoma and preventing him from falling down, while Ryoma's arms wound around his neck to avoid crashing. They were caught in mid-motion, the background only a blur of reds and oranges and yellows and browns—in a photographer's words, low F-numbers; the perfect making for a portrait.

There was an expression of soft surprise in Ryoma's eyes, but otherwise, his face was pleasantly blank. Keigo's face was similarly blank as well, but there was a smolder in his eyes that interpreted as the determination to protect Ryoma from any kind of possible injury. Their faces were approximately ten centimeters apart. To someone who knew their expressions, it would be an innocent image; but to an outsider, it looked as if Ryoma was falling backwards but was caught by Keigo in the nick of time, bridal style, and that Ryoma was clutching wantonly at Keigo in an almost kiss. The smolder in their eyes did nothing to help their case, never mind the fact that they were _still _mere kids.

"A chanced work of art," murmured Ryuuka, reaching out to run his finger pads slowly against the picture, before retracting his hands with a smile. He took a few more minutes scrutinizing the portrait, before he moved on.

However, as he passed one window, he paused. He squinted his eyes, raising his hand to block away the glare of the sun. There was the old willow tree he so loved—the vines provided just the perfect shading for a nice, crisp portrait—and there was someone under it. When he found he couldn't see who it was from his vantage point, he lifted his camera and used the manual zoom, looking at the big screen and squinting—

"Ryoma?! Keigo!!"

* * *

Ryoma murmured incoherently and snuggled against the perfectly chiseled chest he was currently resting his cheek against, reveling absently how warm it was in the cocoon of comfort he was currently in. Their legs were entangled in confusion, but he felt very comfortable in it. He crooned as long, nimble fingers slid their way into his scalp and gently massaged it, before tangling in his short hair and sliding out gracefully, only to repeat the motion again. 

He purred in deepening ecstasy for a few more moments, before he realized that Keigo had stiffened and stopped petting him.

He whined, murmuring pitifully, "_**Keigo, stop tensing**_." He slowly snaked his arms around the older's torso, whimpering, wiggling around until Keigo's muscles were no longer angry and tensed. He was nestled more comfortably against the other's chest, his head fitting snuggly into a neck's curve. His breath fanned over the silky smooth skin he was rested against, and he felt the taller teen suppress an involuntary shudder of undeniable pleasure. The yukata he was wearing for the photo shoot, however, rode up to what was more than less decent, only covering the mere three inches of legs before the curve of his butt. "_**I don't like hard pillows, you know that**_," the annoyed teen added, emphasizing his point with a particularly lewd wriggle.

Caramel-colored legs entwined with Keigo's longer cloth-covered ones sensuously, the apparent lack of blemish riling up Davinia even more. The short originally knee-length yukata now covered even less. Since Ryoma was now more or less straddling Keigo with his position, the cloth had parted at front and slid back against Ryoma's skin, riding up and revealing almost a third of the youth's surprisingly feminine thighs. Evidence of work-out was there, but the poise effectively diminished the manliness of it. Instead, it made Ryoma appear as if he was simply an exquisite Eastern girl with a well-maintained and sexy body.

"_**Ryoma, pet, we've got company**_," Keigo said softly, his formerly relaxed face now donning on a mask of cold indifference. His narrowed eyes never left the approaching Davinia, who was, by now, within hearing range. Keigo flipped the book he was holding close, laying it on the grass softly, before reaching over and smoothing Ryoma's yukata to cover the slim, long, feminine legs decently. His fingers brushed gently against the tanned skin, making Ryoma squirm and let out a crooning sound.

Davinia scowled enviously, however, indicating that she had seen the obvious intimacy and, as per modern terminology, _skinship_.

Without opening his eyes, Ryoma shifted only very slightly and grumbled petulantly into Keigo's shirt, "_**Do whatever you will. Skin them alive, throw them to your rabid fangirls, give them to Syuu-chan or Yuki-san, I don't give a fucking damn. LET. ME. NAP**_."

Keigo inwardly chuckled, nuzzling Ryoma's hair with his nose affectionately. He had long ago decided that definitely liked a lapful of Ryoma snarkiness, and he was evidently not retracting his decision anytime soon.

But Davinia was _not_ amused. Outraged at being put off just like that, she stepped forward, attempting to reach over to Ryoma and do some bodily harm. "_**How DARE you—**_"

"_**WATCH**_…" Keigo began, his voice raised and his hand outstretched, having sharply slapped away Davinia's offending limb and preventing it from even touching Ryoma. "…_**your words**_," the heir slowly finished, retracting his hand and replacing it on the back of Ryoma's head in a protective gesture but also of warning and possessiveness. His darkened charcoal eyes were full of silent anger and warning of impeding doom, sending alarm bells off inside Davinia's head. She froze. "_**You **_**will**_** disappear from our ever astounding sight… else of course you **_**want**_** your monthly allowance to… ah, **_**find its way **_**to a charity of my choice, Davinia **_**dear**"

Davinia paled further, if possible. "_**You can't do that**_," she exhaled quickly, abhorring the very thought.

"_**And who are you, you filthy mongrel who tries to encroach upon **_**my**_** territory, to tell me what I can and **_**can't **_**do?**_" Keigo's sneer was not affected by the fact that his image was betraying what he was saying. He was laying down and petting Ryoma while he was, at the same time, putting her down. It was something not everyone can do, but it was something Atobe Keigo definitely _can_ do. "_**I **_**am**_** the heir to the family, Davinia. You **_**will**_** tremble at my wrath.**_"

The legal Atobe heir swore he heard a derisive snort from the supposedly napping Ryoma, but ignored it so as not to ruin the moment. Davinia was effectively frozen with fear, what with the deadly glare Keigo was streaming her way. Nobody disturbed their quiet time. _Nobody._

After a few tense seconds of silence, Ryoma wiggled his butt once more against Keigo, snuggling and whinging like a deprived child. _**"Keeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiii! Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!"**_

"_**Shush, darling, almost done, the monster's almost gone**_," murmured Keigo comfortingly to the whinging teen, placing a placating kiss on the other's cheek gently before turning to the abhorrence in front of them. He hissed with contempt, "**LEAVE.**"

Davinia, who was _very_ very pissed off as hell, radiated anger and humiliation, before hissing out murderously something that sounded like "I won't forget this" and walking—err, more precisely _stomping_—away.

"_**Done?**_" grumbled Ryoma.

"_**Done, darling. Go back to sleep**_," hummed Keigo.

"_**No more ugly monsters disturbing my naptime?**_"

"_**No more. Ore-sama mightily and valiantly chased them all away just for you. Now go back to sleep, Ryo.**_"

"_**Tch.**_"

Silence.

"_**Great. Now I **_**can't **_**sleep. It's disgusting enough that you **_**actually**_** made skin contact with her; did you have to **_**infect**_** me right after?**_"

"_**We'll have a full cleansing ritual as soon as we return. I'll inform them.**_"

"_**You'd better.**_"

* * *

Ryuuka watched from his vantage point as the girl—Davinia, from what he could make out—walked off fuming from the willow tree. He chuckled, amused beyond himself about the fact that Keigo still retained his talent at putting people off and making them fly of their handles. In reality, both Keigo and Ryoma could push people's buttons the way they wanted to, whenever they wanted to, no matter who it was. They were just _that_ annoying, and he knew it first hand. 

He pushed the window open and climbed over the low base, easily slipping out into the gardens. He was still too far away to be seen by Keigo, but he knew that the Atobe heir would soon sense his presence. He was that sensitive, especially when he was trying to get Ryoma to sleep, which appeared to be what he was trying to do right now.

Ryuuka padded on the soft, freshly watered grass, shading his camera from the direct heat of the sun. Miami heat and humidity was harmful to cameras; that much he knew. As he came within hearing range of Keigo, the Atobe heir looked up, paused his Ryoma-petting momentarily, before smiling and continuing. Ryuuka took it as a go signal, and approached.

"Keigo-kun," he smiled in greeting, careful to keep his voice down so as not to disturb the already napping Ryoma. "It's been a while."

"Ryuuka-san," smiled Keigo, shushing Ryoma as the teen stirred at his voice. "It's good to see you again after so long. Congratulations on the tour and exhibit."

"Thank you," chuckled Ryuuka, crouching down and peering around at Ryoma's face. "The little one's fast asleep."

Keigo chuckled. "The little one is no longer little, Ryuuka-san. But don't worry; he's still the same downright brat."

"…saru…" grumbled Ryoma in his sleep almost incoherently, before turning his face the other way and snuggling closer.

Ryuuka broke out in a silent light laugh, standing up and holding his camera. "Would you terribly mind if I took some snaps right now?"

"Go ahead," Keigo murmured his assent, running his hand through Ryoma's hair gently and reveling in the pleasured croon the younger released.

Keigo, as was their set tradition when taking pictorials with Ryoma, acted normal and didn't bother posing. He remembered Ryuuka mentioning that both of them were photogenic so the posing really didn't matter. He also remembered that Ryuuka gave up prematurely with making them pose, because Ryoma had the attention span of a hyper-spastic eight-year-old inside a toy store; in short, he wouldn't stay still long enough for the camera to snap.

Keigo watched Ryuuka walk around the willow, trying to get a good angle to shoot. He seemed to be aiming to shoot the image through the vines, with the foreground blurred and only the two of them in the clear. The photographer wandered around, tilting his head up and down with his camera and keeping his eye in the viewfinder to make sure he didn't miss anything.

He stood up and held his camera down, placing his chin in his hand and pondering silently. From Keigo's viewpoint, his face was on side view, and the sun's gentle lighting as the clouds crept over it accentuated the seemingly ageless face perfectly. He still remained the same as seven years ago, Keigo thought.

And as the photographer turned slightly on his spot, Keigo minutely gasped, his eyes widening.

"_Attention all players!_" rasped the surround speakers around the mansion. Yuushi's voice echoed through the manor, calling the attention of all the wandering players, wherever they were. Keigo was broken from his epiphany. "_The photographer has arrived. Everyone is requested back to the studio lounge. Anyone who isn't there within ten minutes' time will be punished for tardiness. Penalty: Penal Tea._"

A few seconds of silence ensued after the announcement, before shouts of terror and mortification echoed throughout the mansion.

"HIDOI! NOT PENAL TEA!"

"O-O-O-OISHI! HUNYA, WHERE ARE WE?!?"

_CRASH!_ "Damnit, MAMUSHI, THAT'S YOUR FAULT!"

"FSSSSSSSSSSHHHH, URUSAI!"

"Ara, Inui's bringing out the old Penal Tea! Kunimitsu, let's be late, shall we? It's a rather rare chance to get another taste of a classic Inui juice…"

"Syuusuke. I'm a captain. You're not seriously asking me to slack off intentionally, are you?"

"Why yes, I am, Kunimitsu."

"Daijoubu ka, Sei-chan? Won't we be forced to drink that foul thing?"

"Daijoubu yo, Aka-chan. Our hero, Gen-chan, will save us from the clutches of evil."

"YUUSHI, YOU TRAITOR, WHERE ARE YOU?!?!"

"Shishido-san, let's hurry!"

"OI, MOMOSHIRO, COME BACK HERE!"

A few more loud crashes and curses echoed as chaos continued inside the manor. However, all was interrupted when the speakers rasped once again. "_Gakuto, I'm not a traitor; you were the one who left me alone in the hallway, remember? And Ryuuka-san, please proceed to the usual studio room. Yukiko-oba-san and the others are waiting for you there. Oh, and Keigo, you're not an exception with regards to the Penal Tea._"

Ryuuka chortled in amusement. "Quite a rowdy bunch you have here, hmm?"

"Honestly, they're more than a handful," grumbled Keigo, having recovered his prior unruffled state. He gently poked Ryoma under the ribs, knowing that the sensation would immediately wake Ryoma.

And he wasn't disappointed.

"Nandayo?!" Ryoma awoke with a yelp, clutching his side and drawing away from Keigo's chest. He was still, however, straddling Keigo's thighs. "What the hell's your problem, _saru_?!"

"We need to get back to the studio in ten minutes, Ryoma," chuckled Keigo, patting Ryoma's legs in a gesture to get him off.

Ryoma whinged pitifully, going limp and draping himself back over Keigo hopelessly. "Keiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!"

Keigo sighed, glaring daggers at a sniggering Ryuuka who wasn't helping the situation one bit. "Darling, it's Penal Tea for us otherwise."

And Ryoma froze. "P-P-P-Penal Tea? _T-T-That_ Penal Tea?"

"Yes. _That_ Penal Tea."

Silence.

"What the hell are you lazing down there for, saru?! Get your arse up!" Ryoma snapped, darting upright and pulling himself up. He tugged on Keigo's arm and proceeded to unceremoniously drag the Atobe heir across the gardens.

"Ch-chotto, Ryoma!" hissed Keigo, pulling his wrist back. He squared Ryoma's shoulders and started rearranging the teen's yukata. "You don't honestly want to go back there dressed indecently, do you?" he sneered, tugging down the cloth that had previously ridden up Ryoma's shapely thighs. He spun Ryoma around, checking if there was anything else out of place, and when he found none, he started arranging himself.

Ryoma sighed, rolling his eyes. It was then that he noticed Ryuuka, who was lagging behind them and amusedly taking snapshots. "Ryuu-chan!" Ryoma squealed in childish delight, his eyes lighting up like fireworks were set off somewhere behind them. He darted to the adult, latching himself on the photographer's waist. "Ryuu-chaaaaaaan!"

Ryuuka grinned, patting Ryoma's head. "How've you been, Ryoma-kun?"

"Perfect!" Ryoma enthusiastically bounced, tugging Ryuuka and Keigo along as they made their way through the gardens. "Where've you been, Ryuu-chan? Keigo tells me you haven't been around to shoot for the Atobe family for a while now."

"I had a world tour and exhibit project, Ryoma-kun," explained Ryuuka. "It was a success. I just finished a few years ago, and ever since then, I've been busy with all the international requests. Of course, if the Atobes had put forward a request, I would've immediately taken it. It'd be ungracious of me not to accept; the Atobes funded my project after all. But Yukiko-san never really asked, so I just waited until I was called. I thought they'd found a replacement, honestly speaking."

"That's not possible, Ryuuka-san," Keigo shook his head. "There's no better photographer out there. You're the current fastest rising virtuoso in the world of photography. Why would we feel the need to replace you?"

"Sou, sou, sou!" agreed Ryoma.

"How's your son, by the way, Ryuuka-san?" Keigo asked. "Is he fine now?"

"Yeah," nodded Ryuuka. "He's completely fine now. The car accident three years ago didn't really damage any bones or critical places, so he can continue playing the sport he loves so much. He's in Japan right now, I think."

"You think?" echoed both Ryoma and Keigo.

"Because of the worldwide appointments, I haven't been able to live with him these past few years. I did bring him around with me when he was a child, and I home-schooled him to make sure his education was up to par, but I just thought he'd need some stability for a while, and my job won't be able to provide that," Ryuuka explained. "So I left him at my mom's house in Japan, and I visit him two months at a time, two times a year. But I think he's currently traveling with some of his friends, so I'm not so sure if they're still in Japan or they went overseas."

"Oh," nodded Keigo. "That's good, then. You _really_ have to introduce us sometime."

"That might be a good idea," smiled Ryuuka, before turning to them curiously. "Out of curiosity, what is this 'penalty' Yuushi-kun says you'll get if you're late, anyway?"

"You get Penal Tea," grumbled Ryoma and Keigo sulkily at the same time.

"Yeah, I _know_ you get penalty, but what _is_ it?"

Ryoma looked at Ryuuka weirdly. "I _told_ you, it's _Penal Tea_."

"Ehh?" echoed Ryuuka.

* * *

Toushi sighed as he entered the studio lounge with Kevin within ten minutes of Yuushi's announcement. Penal Tea was _never_ a nice experience, after all. He glanced around the room, and found that almost everyone—with the exception of Keigo, Ryoma, and Fuji, as expected—were there already. Tezuka was engaged in a silent conversation with Tachibana and Sanada, while Yukimura was pampering Kirihara nearby. Shinichi and Asuka—who was now cured of his chicken pox, thankfully—were engaged in a one-sided game of chess, where Shinichi was killing all of Asuka's pieces. 

Momoshiro, Eiji, Gakuto, Marui, Kamio, Shishido, and Kaidoh were all occupied in a furious seven-player race, their fingers furiously murdering the gaming consoles on one side of the room. Choutarou was cheering on his doubles partner just as Oishi was doing, while Momoshiro and Kaidoh were engaged in what seemed like a race just between the two of them, ignoring everyone else in the game. Inui and Renji were huddled over some… _things_ in one corner of the room, one typing away on a laptop and another looking over notes while stirring…uhh…a… concoction carefully in a huge container. Kevin flinched visibly as the concoction bubbled over and fizzed and smoked a purple smoke, slightly burning a whole on the carpet after Inui dropped something into it while cackling like a witch.

Yuushi was standing by Yukiko, Rinko, Verna, Richard, and a still fuming Davinia, and they appeared to be talking about business while they waited for the photographer. A few of the others were scattered around the room, either chatting or being silent and invisible (in Shinji's case).

"Here, Tou," Kevin offered, shoving a glass of juice into Toushi's hands. Toushi chuckled, accepting. "Wonder where Ryoma is."

Toushi rolled his eyes, grunting, "As usual." Kevin, however, heard the friendly jesting tone woven into the sentence and therefore did not take offence.

"Oh, here they are, here they are!" Yukiko gushed excitedly, walking forward and opening the ushering Keigo, Ryuuka, and Ryoma—who was still latched on to Ryuuka like a leech—into the studio. The matriarch somehow managed to give Ryuuka a hug even though Ryoma was already hanging off the poor photographer.

"Ryoma, let go," sighed Keigo, tugging on Ryoma.

"Yadda. Ryuu-chan is here. Yadda."

Keigo hopelessly sighed, before scanning the room for Tezuka, who caught on and immediately stepped forward. For the second time that day, the captain made the Seigaku brat let go and instead transfer leeching victims. Ryoma was now latched on firmly to Tezuka, who accommodated him graciously without comment.

Yukiko then turned to the players. "Everyone, this is our photographer, Ryuuka-san. Please cooperate with him so we can finish the shoot as early as possible, alright?"

"Wait—cooperate? Are we involved in the shoot as well?" questioned a bemused Momoshiro. "I thought we were only here to visit the manor and nothing else."

Yukiko laughed a saccharine laugh; a laugh that both Keigo and Ryoma knew was reserved for wheedling things. "Oh, well, since we're all here and the photographer is here, I thought it'd be good to maybe take everyone's portraits as well!"

Groans echoed across the rooms, but Kevin's whine preceded them all. "Do we _really_ have to?!"

"Kevin, have you forgotten that you're still included even if we're not?" pointed out Shinichi. "You're a member of the family by extension through Ryoma."

An even louder whine escaped Kevin. He flailed and tried to wheedle his way out of the pictorial in vain, and was joined by Ryoma within a few seconds even though they both knew it was a hopeless cause.

Behind Kevin, however, Toushi was surprised beyond belief. He rushed towards Ryuuka. "Ryuu!"

"Eh? Toushi? What are you doing here?!" Ryuuka yelped in similar surprise.

Keigo's eyes narrowed. "You two know each other?" he asked curiously, but all he got was an affirmative nod from Ryuuka before the two were engaged in active conversation on their own. Keigo found that he couldn't insert any comments anywhere, and was, for a lack of a better word, miffed. It was not everyday, after all, that His Greatness was ignored. However, as he turned around with a sigh to face a sulking Ryoma—who, incidentally, had been tugging his arm off in a very literal sense prior his attention switch—he didn't see Ryuuka and Toushi both don expressions of relief—even though they seem to be relieved over two different (but most likely related) things—and exchange glances that were suspiciously speaking silent words far more than they normally should.

After a few more words, Yukiko finally decided that they'd all had enough chatter already and it was time to get the cameras snapping. She ushered Ryuuka to one of the side tables propped against the wall, picking up her portfolio and showing the photographer the additions she'd made to the theme they'd decided.

"I just want the traditional Japanese feel mixed with a bit of modern flair and youth," explained Yukiko, motioning towards the very stylish backgrounds that were set up around the place. "It'd be boring for them if I made them all pose like stiff statues in formal pictures all day—though we still will have the formal part, of course—and they _are _young people, so I thought it'd be a good idea to add some… _wackiness_ into it as well."

Ryuuka nodded understandingly, sifting the backgrounds and setups with his expertise. His eyes landed on Ryoma who was curiously latched onto a bespectacled brown-haired older teen, who seemed to be tolerating the bratty attitude and holding up pretty well. Keigo was nowhere to be seen, which was a surprise for Ryuuka, since the two were almost always together.

"I'm surprised you managed to get him to wear the outfit this time," Ryuuka chuckled in amusement, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes as he remembered one of their old after-party shoots. "Last time was a menace, and it was just formal men's kimono. And now, a _yukata_—feminine! Heavens, it's a miracle how you managed that."

Yukiko smiled. "No, it wasn't me, Ryuuka-san, it was that young man he's currently with. That's Tezuka-kun; he's one of Ryoma's boyfriends."

"_One_ of his _boyfriends_?" echoed Ryuuka, his head swiveling at an alarmingly speedy motion, eyes speaking utter surprise. "He has _boy_friends? And _more than one_?"

"Yes, Ryuu-san, _boy_friends. He's homosexual, just like Keigo. And yes, he has more than one. The other one, I presume, is somewhere still wandering around the manor; darling Keigo already went off to fetch him, I gather," Yukiko offhandedly mentioned. "In any case, it was _their_ doing, not mine. Ryoma has grown out of our parenting hands now. I believe he's found other person to depend on, which is wonderful, other than just having Keigo and Kevin and no one else."

"Well, going home to Japan seems to have been a good decision for the Echizen family," grinned Ryuuka. Yukiko raised a cocktail to him in agreement and salute, before sipping daintily. A few more minutes of silence between them stretched, before Ryuuka chuckled once again, his eyes never leaving the raven-haired pouting bundle of snark currently snuggled into the bespectacled brown-haired man's lap. "I'm _still_ awed at how you managed to get him wear that."

Yukiko giggled. "That last time was funny, wasn't it?"

_**Flashback**_

"_I'm not _wearing_ that girly THING!" snapped Ryoma, a scowl ever-present on the sulking, angry face. A _cute_ angry face. The pert nose was scrunched up in an expression of disgust, the forehead crinkled up and the mouth upturned into a frown. "Never, never, Keigo!"_

_Keigo sighed hopelessly, cradling his forehead in his hand. For a young child like him, the action might have been a little bit too mature of an expression, but given the situation, he could plead otherwise. Ryoma could make _anyone_ feel mature with his immaturity. "Honestly, Ryoma. It's _perfectly manly._ It's our, the Japanese's, traditional dress!"_

"_DRESS!" shrieked Ryoma, shooting to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at a startled Keigo, unaware that he'd called the attention of the nearby adults. Rinko, Yukiko, Nanjiroh, Miyagi, and Ryuuka all watched on in amusement, wondering what it was this time. Everyday was an eventful day with these handfuls of snarks and sparks, and all of them knew it. "You said DRESS!" shrieked Ryoma._

_Silence._

"…_so?" Keigo prompted._

"_I'M NOT WEARING A DRESS! YADDA!" screeched Ryoma, making an X motion with his arms and shaking his head fervently in negation. "Dresses are for sissy GIRLS! Nononono, never!"_

_Keigo sighed again, groaning. Off to their corner, the adults snickered on the older child's expense. "Ryoma… it's just for the shoot. Just a few shots. Then it's over."_

"_Why is saru-chama not wearing it, then?!" demanded Ryoma, fluffing up like a haggled cat and planting his hands on his hips, scrunching up his face in what was supposed to be a scary expression. Keigo just found it endearing and adorable. (He could swear he heard a few snaps go off from a corner behind him.) "Well? I want to know why saru-chama is not wearing it! If it's your traditional dress?" sneered Ryoma aggressively. The sneer was almost perfect, and that was saying something for a seven-year-old._

_Keigo, feeling challenged, pulled himself up and pushed the feelings of annoyance and frustration away with surprising ease and fluent control. He raised his eyebrow as if looking down on Ryoma. A chortle disguised halfway as a snort came choppily from behind him. _

"_Well, I, for one, am comfortable enough in this suit…" he drawled with his haughty I-am-God-and-you-are-dirt-under-my-feet voice. He adjusted his faultlessly impeccable attire's waistcoat, throwing a pointed look at a scowling Ryoma. "…unlike some brat prince I know. Why, Ryoma, would you rather be in one of_ these_ instead of the… _dress_?" Keigo smiled darkly, adjusting and tightening his tie to emphasize his point. "If that's so, then say so. We have one ready for you too," he grinned evilly, motioning towards the other box set in the corner containing a darker and heavier-looking cloth than the one that was before Ryoma._

_Ryoma froze, a gulp stopped midway. It was common knowledge that Ryoma did not like tight, formal clothing, like those abominable tailored suits and tuxes. They were just unbearable especially for someone like him, who needed to move a lot and be comfortable to maintain a good mood. He was not yet in the age where he could tolerate and resist himself for long periods of time, and as such, it was hopeless to get him into one of those._

_He eyed the tight collar and the fixed waistcoat, gulping audibly and sweating. He swept his eyes down to Keigo's shiny and freshly-polished shoes. Screwing his face up, he shuddered to think how uncomfortable the attire was._

_Ryoma whinged, before stopping and grumbling instead, opting for the more 'manly' way of complaining and expressing his distaste. "Fine. –_grumble_— I'll wear your stupid _dress_. –_grumble_— Doesn't mean that I'll like it, though. –_grumble—_" _

_Keigo smiled a satisfied, smug smile to himself, before pushing the box containing the haori and hakama closer to Ryoma. "Go ahead, then, and try it on," pushed Keigo. Ryoma looked hesitant, but the young boy reached out and accepted the box at Keigo's raised eyebrow. "Go on." _

_The boy curiously poked and petted the fabric to get the feel of it, as if testing if it was going to be more uncomfortable than it already had to be. However, before long, Ryoma found himself petting it repeatedly._

"'Doesn't mean I'll like it'_ indeed, darling prince," Keigo leered mockingly._

_Ryoma drew his hand away like he'd touched something burning hot, and tried to look disgruntled and sulky to protect his already damaged reputation. __(Yes, he already had a sense of reputation due to the pride that seemed to have also been inherited down the Echizen line.)_

_But the damage was done._

_Ryoma sulked. "Shut up, monkey."_

_Keigo simply leered._

_The Atobe heir wouldn't stop nagging and teasing Ryoma about that for weeks to follow. _

_**End of Flashback**_

* * *

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Keigo groaned. 

_Why ore-sama?! Why does ore-sama _have_ to go and fetch that—that—URGH!_

He grumbled in annoyance, his gaze darkening as he picked up his pace and stalked the halls hurriedly, eyes darting back and forth to search for a telltale sign of Fuji. He had been… _assigned_ with the duty to bring back the wandering tensai, who was most probably already completely enamored with the manor that he forgot there was a shoot to attend. (It was, after all, not possible for a genius like him to get lost in a manor just this size.)

He grumbled audibly, easing doors open and peeking inside to see if the one he was searching for was somewhere in there. He moved forward through the hallways.

"Fuji!" he called out, raising his voice and opting for the faster option. Even if he wasn't sure if Fuji would gracefully meet him if he called, at least he'd know that someone was searching. "Oi, Fuji, where are you?! Ore-sama will not play your games!"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, flexing it slightly. He'd gotten quite stiff from that reading session he had with Ryoma earlier. As he walked down the corridors and stared down at the patterned expensive marbled floor, he thought of the observations he'd made earlier.

Quite frankly, he was proud of himself for having noticed such small details. They were minute clues, but he felt as if he was getting closer to solving Sayo's death. He just felt ill at ease with the facts swimming in front of them. And almost _everybody_ in the family knew them, but _nobody_ did anything! That was the infuriating part of it. He honestly expected better from his mother, whom, he was sure, knew _far more_ than he did about these issues.

Of course, he'd given thought to the possibility that they were not talking about it or prying around because they were _trying to hide something_. But he cursed out loud as he came across this thought.

_Well, I'll surely be damned if I become the heir and I don't know the nooks and crannies of my clan. I _have_ to know what goes on in the shadows. I have no plans on being an ornamental head!_

The thought of being controlled from the shadows made his skin crawl. Above all things, he hated not being able to have his own grasp on things. He was _born_ to rule after all.

He turned the corner and frowned as he saw a huge picture of Sayo smiling with a laughing baby Yusuke settled on the crook of her arm. Apparently, he'd somehow walked into the east gallery. Absently, he really had to admit that Ryuuka had talent with capturing the best snapshot moments and _still_ not miss the angling and exposure and saturation and all of that photography jargon. And he managed to turn them into award-winning portraits too.

He narrowed his eyes and came up closer, raking his eyes over Yusuke's blown up face. He took in the startling electric blue eyes of the infant. He couldn't, however, make out the color of the infant's hair. It was still the colorless soft baby fuzz. He sighed.

"What are you looking at?" came a gentle, silent voice from behind him, startling him.

He refused to show his surprise, though. _Ore-sama is elite,_ he thought to himself, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his surprise was as clear as day to anyone who would look.

"The portrait, obviously," sneered Keigo, turning around to face Fuji, who was smiling peacefully as usual. "Where _have_ you been? Ryoma's been asking for you."

"Oh, just wandering around…" Fuji offhandedly dismissed, waving a hand in emphasis. He then crossed his arms behind his back and walked towards the next display. It was a violin on a wall case. "…I wanted to get some of the Penal Tea, you see, so I wanted to come in late. But I saw these really pretty landscape photographs framed on the wall in that gallery over there, and I paused for a bit to observe. I didn't notice I was already more than very late."

"Well, you are," Keigo pointedly said. "And Ryuuka-san is already here. I thought you might want to see him."

Fuji smiled and nodded silently. A few more seconds of a silent pause stretched between the two of them, before he spoke again. "Has Ryoma been asking really badly for me?"

Keigo detected the tinge of worry in Fuji's voice, and inwardly he nodded in satisfaction. He wanted to see care within whoever would take Ryoma from him. "Yes, he has. But right now, Tezuka's taking care of him."

"Hmm. Then I should give them a bit more time," voiced Fuji unnecessarily. "Ryoma's been way too attached to me these past few days."

"I noticed," snorted Keigo.

Fuji silently smiled wider and turned back to the violin, his eyes slowly tracing the outlines of the instrument and observing it with a strange gleam in his eyes. Keigo noticed that the other teen was deeply immersed into it, and he vaguely wondered why. He turned his own eyes to the instrument.

"Do you know how to play?" asked Keigo, chancing it.

Fuji's eyebrow twitched the fraction of a millimeter, but it was noticeable to Keigo's trained eyes. This was, after all, one of Ryoma's boyfriends. Keigo had to have observed him well.

Fuji turned slightly to Keigo and asked, "Why the sudden question?"

"Well, excuse me for wanting to further to conversation instead of stand here in silence," sniffed Keigo, crossing his arms and shifting balance. The light inside the room grew and dimmed in alternation due to the rolling clouds passing over the sun outside. The breeze filtered in from the open windows, caressing their bare skin.

"There's nothing wrong with silence," Fuji hummed thoughtfully, turning his eyes fully to Keigo.

"I never said there was," shrugged the Atobe heir, looking straight back at Fuji steadily. He wouldn't be one to back down. "This is just about one of the longest civil conversations we've had, Fuji, and for the sake of Ryoma, I actually want to have more. I don't want to be fighting with one of my childhood friend and quasi-younger brother's significant others all the time. That upsets him, as you should know well."

Fuji's face remained thoughtful as he tilted his head to the side, as if contemplating Keigo's face. Keigo simply raised an elegant eyebrow smoothly.

"But you don't really like me," prompted Fuji, wheedling out a more eloquent explanation.

"No, I don't," Keigo admitted honestly and straightforwardly without breaking his stance. "I don't like you _based on_ what I know of you, which, even considering our long acquaintance, is very scarce. And I gather you really don't like me either—"

"—_based on_ what I know of you, yes," Fuji continued for him, his face smoothening back into a flawless smile, a smile that Keigo knew hid many secrets and covered the darkness inside. "I'm surprised that you actually can make sense beyond your arrogance, _Keigo._"

This time, it was Keigo who quirked an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment, _Syuusuke_, even if it wasn't aimed as one," he smirked, before offering his hand to end the parley. "Truce?"

Fuji eyed the hand for a pause, before shrugging as if deciding that it could do him no harm and that the hand had no teeth with which to bite and gnaw on his own hand. He smiled and reached out, taking Keigo's hand. "Truce."

There was silence for a bit, before both parties withdrew their hands.

"Make no mistake, though," Keigo warned. "The moment you hurt Ryoma is the moment you'll rue you ever knew me."

"Same to you," Fuji said, his smile growing wider. Oh, how he loved threatening people. "Though I'll try hard not to let that moment come."

"You'd better," grumbled Keigo, before turning back to the violin. "Well? Do you know how to play?" he asked again, motioning to the violin.

Fuji's smile turned into a nostalgic one as he answered softly, "Only one song."

"Only one?"

"I've only learned how to play one song," Fuji affirmed gently. Keigo absently marveled at how gentle and feminine the tensai's composure was—the voice, the face, the gestures; they all spoke gentleness and femininity. No wonder people were entangled in his charms. "Schubert's Ave Maria. My uncle taught it to me after I kept on nagging why he kept playing such a sad song."

Fuji was focused on the violin as he recounted his old memories from his far childhood, and as such, he didn't notice Keigo stiffen and suddenly pay rapt attention. The Atobe heir's eyes narrowed and trained on Fuji, as if determined to catch every single motion he made. However, the shadow behind the eyes expressed contemplativeness and only a hint of dark suspicion.

"He said that a dear friend, someone who died, loved the song," continued Fuji smoothly, his voice a slow, gentle, nostalgic lull. He shrugged softly to portray his confusion. "I guess the song acted as a catalyst for a memory or something for him, a way of release from the world."

Keigo continued scrutinizing Fuji, his mind working furiously. The pieces were falling into their places in his mind as he glanced over the puzzle he had been working on for so long. Just a few more clues, he needed just a few more affirming clues. He masterfully blanked his face again, before donning a thoughtful gaze. "Come, let's adjourn to the parlour. Oh, and _Syuusuke_… take that violin and its bow with you."

Fuji turned and looked on in confusion as Keigo walked smooth, measured steps towards the end of the corridor where he initially came from. The Atobe heir neither turned back to acknowledge that he was not following nor offered an explanation; he simply walked straight forward.

Sighing, Fuji reached over to the glass case and unlatched the cover, opening it carefully and removing the violin and bow. He closed it gently and cradled the instrument properly, walking after Keigo, who had already turned the corner.

Soon enough, they were in a small empty day room. The only thing that was in it was the sleek black grand piano standing regally in the center, well-polished and maintained. Keigo, without a break in his steps, strode forward and sat himself before the already ready piano. Fuji's steps, however, came to a stuttered stop.

"Keigo?" he voiced.

"You know where to come in, don't you?" Keigo asked in turn, ignoring the poised question. He stretched his back, his arms, and his fingers.

Fuji nodded blankly.

"Good," Keigo nodded in turn, before settling his fingers on the keys and starting to play.

* * *

The room was a flurry of activity as Ryuuka directed them all to do whatever they wanted to do and just let him shoot for the portraits. The entire crowd was now dressed in assorted kinds of men's kimono and yukata, which had Ryoma whining and arguing why he was the only one wearing a feminine version. To placate him, Yukimura had consented dressing up in a full feminine yukata, complete with the light make up and the hair arrangement. He was dressed in a matter of minutes, as if he'd done it before, and Yukiko and Rinko helped arrange his hair. 

Ryuuka chuckled as he caught a shot of Yukimura arranging a crown of white and yellow peonies on Ryoma's head, as if an older sister tending to a younger. The formal shots were to be done later, when they were complete. Yukiko and Rinko were having the time of their lives dolling up the 'children', while Nanjiroh, Richard, and a newly arrived Miyagi chuckled in amusement by one corner.

"My beautiful daughter Ryoma-chan!!" cooed Nanjiroh, making Ryoma hiss aggressively and spit fire. "My little flower has bloomed into such a beautiful young lady!"

"SHUT UP!" exploded the young prodigy heatedly, only to be hushed and placated by Tezuka.

A few more minutes of lively chatter ensued, before Ryuuka's ears picked up a slow tune from a nearby room. It was a piano, and it was playing a very familiar piece. Very slowly, hush descended on the room as the sound rose to crescendo.

"Who's playing?" voiced Marui.

"The song's so pretty!" cooed Eiji.

Richard, who was sitting on the same table with Nanjiroh and Miyagi, froze in his seat. He knew this melody by heart. He knew the ups and downs of the notes, he knew the pauses, he knew the accents—he had this song memorized. And this memorized song was being played by someone—

A violin slowly entered the tune, the haunting sweet melody rapidly sweeping across the manor for everyone to hear. The floating notes lulled the entire manor into silence, and even the barking guard dogs silenced themselves.

Richard stood and made his way slowly through the crowd, making a beeline for the room where he knew it was coming from. The day room that was nearby had a grand piano in it and nothing else. That room was vacated and was reserved for musical purposes only.

He moved through the corridors, fairly aware of the footsteps behind him—the crowd was following him, apparently out of pure curiosity—but not really caring. He was enraptured by the sound, that sound that hadn't been produced for ages since _she_ died.

Richard slowly eased the door to the parlour open, peeking inside. Behind him, footsteps settled as the others gathered by the door to see who was playing.

Keigo was on the piano, his eyes closed and his fingers skimming over the keys easily as if he wasn't really putting pressure on them. But the fact that Keigo could play the piano and play it good was common knowledge. The other player was what got them staring.

Fuji was beside Keigo and playing the violin, the soft notes controlled and well played. He was playing as if he'd played all his life, as if not one moment had he let go of that violin, as if he'd taken lessons ever since childhood. And yet they all knew that Fuji, despite the deep interest for classical music, never took music lessons because of his sport.

"…since when did Syuu-chan play violin?" breathed Ryoma, transfixed at the sight before him. He was afraid to raise his voice for fear of disrupting the harmony. In fact, they were all afraid to take even one step into the room, for fear of upsetting the mood the two.

"Burning! I'm awed by the ethereal beauty…" Taka-san whispered from behind them, uncharacteristically muting his 'burning' mode.

However, that was not what caught Richard, and, it seemed, Ryuuka as well.

Richard breathed a shaky breath.

"…Sayo…?"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(First Revision Version)_

* * *

Tria-chan and I were talking a few chat sessions ago about who would fit best into a Ryoma role within some predominant J-rock artists. We came up with a triumvirate. XD Gackt as Tezuka-buchou (since he's the overall seme anyway, but will still give under his partner's ministrations), Hyde as either Syuu-chan or Kei-chan (depending if it's a TezuRyoFuji or a TezuRyoAto), and Miyavi as the ultimate brat: Ryoma-chan. (I just love him.) 

-swoonmelt-

(Kia-chan is currently experiencing flail syndrome over Miyavi. Pardon her.)

In any case, this chapter was slow-paced, but it was peppered with LOTS of clues. Maybe you'll figure this out on your own now. **Oh, and the one who figures out why we chose Schubert's Ave Maria as the piece Keigo and Syuusuke play gets LOADS of cookies**!

**From Aventria:**

**P. S. Whoever captures either (or both) the AtoRyo portraits, the one when they were children playing tag and/or the one when Keigo is fondling (for lack of a better word) Ryoma while he naps will get a bigger prize. Entries are due by the time we post the next chapter, or we'll give you a month starting from this chapter's update date. You can still send it to us after that but your entry will not be liable to win. Even we need deadlines.**

**P. P. S. We'd also like to request the ToFu (Atobe/Fuji) **_**Ave Maria**_** duet scene in art. Cheers!**

**P. P. P. S. (admonishes Tria) Gomen. The prize is that the person(s) will get a special by-request scene, and I will write it for you! Anything, as long as the characters are in this story! Each drawing equals one prize, which means if a person submits two drawings that satisfy us, he/she gets two scenes.**

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 06.29.07  
First Revision Version: 06.29.07_


	31. Step Thirty: Discovery by Chance

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Right. I am tired from doing the laundry—yes, because my slaves have GONE somewhere without permission (though rest assured they will be skinned and diced when they come back)—and cleaning the penthouse. But I am still writing, because I _love you guys so much!_

Yeah, right.

I'm just inspired and bored.

Ohh, yeah. Clues for those who understand German. For those who don't… well, good luck in pestering me (and Tria).

HOMFG Keigo looks positively BURNING HOT with short hair!!! (Tri-insert: Keigo's hot ANYWHERE ANYTIME ANYHOW, darling.) Those who haven't seen yet, check out PoT OVA 14 and 15. You just HAVE to see it if you're a Keigo fan. (It's RAW, though. Gomen, no subs yet.)

EDIT: In the middle of writing this, I lost inspiration. Fear not; I have no intentions of dropping the story. However, there are ups and downs in a writer's inspi. But, well, thank Tri for badgering me to watch the Nationals again to get inspired. X.X Gomen ne, if some parts seem half-hearted. I'm trying my best. Hoyea, this chapter is less focused on Tezuka and Ryoma and Fuji. I'm giving airtime to other characters, particularly Yuushi and Keigo. (07.19.07)

EDIT No. 2: Hokay, so we just redid some major timeline corrections. Worry not; we simply adjusted. There were some major, uhh, misunderstandings between me and Tri regarding the timeline stuff (they are a PAIN in the ARSE) and so, yeah. X.X I'm never good at dealing with numbers.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warninng:** Some heavy petting. (LIME)

* * *

**Step Thirty: Chance Discovery**  
_(R__evised Version)_

* * *

"Sayo…?" came an anguished whisper from Richard. Only a few of them, however, heard the whisper, for the notes rose in crescendo and tumbled over them in waves of pure melody and harmony.

Momoshiro, who, from childhood, never really had all that much interest in music in general (and even less in classical music), found himself slack-jawed and speechless from the pure beauty that was presented before his eyes. Never had he heard such a smooth, well-performed piece in his entire life. Behind him, a multitude of stood just as stock still and slack-jawed as he was.

They were, however, startled out of their skin when a high, keening voice entered as Fuji and Keigo moved on to the third verse. Heads turned to find Yukiko, who was still standing on the same spot she'd been in since the doors opened, lips parted and hands on her chest, singing soulfully.

"_Ave Maria! Reine Magd!  
Der Erde und der Luft Damonen,  
Von deines Auges Huld verjagt,  
Sie konnen hier nicht bei uns wohnen,  
Wir woll'n uns still dem Schicksal beugen,  
Da uns dein heil'ger Trost anweht;_

Nearby, Ryuuka's eyebrow crumpled in thought, processing the words of the song. It wasn't his first time hearing it; goodness, the song was sung every single day at the church near his penthouse in Rome. No, it was the underlying meaning of the song, and the fact that it was Yukiko singing it.

His eyes flickered towards Toushi, then to Fuji, then to Richard, then glazed over as he resumed staring a millimeter short of open gaping at the singing Yukiko.

"_Der Jungfrau wolle hold dich neigen,  
Dem Kind, das fur den Vater fleht.  
Ave Maria!_"

An even more profound silence blanketed over the crowd as the piano and violin drew each other to a close and Yukiko's voice faded with them.

There was no movement as they all stood still, until Fuji released a slow stream of breath and lowered the violin and bow he had been supporting. He turned to smile at Yukiko. "You have a remarkably beautiful voice, Yukiko-san."

Yukiko smiled brightly, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at the edges of her eyes gently as they shimmered with unshed tears. "That song, for some reason," she starts, chuckling faintly. "It makes me cry each time I hear it."

"It _is _a frightfully melancholic song," Yukimura remarked from behind Yukiko, being one of the first few ones to recover.

The voice of another other than Yukiko and Fuji snaps Richard out of his dazed state, and he opens his mouth to ask a question, but he finds he's overridden by Ryoma's enthusiastic voice. The young tennis star latches himself onto Fuji and starts chattering, asking questions left and right, joined by a few more players who were now coming back to their senses after experiencing an otherworldly experience.

Yukiko gently ushers the teenagers out of the room, herding them towards the studio like a shepherd gathering his flock. As she turns the corner, however, she sends a fleeting glance to Ryuuka, who nods almost imperceptibly.

"It's so nice to have such talented young men stand before us and show us the future, isn't it, Miyagi-san, Nanjiroh-san?" smiled Ryuuka after a few moments of silence as they stared after the retreating hoard of tennis players.

Nanjiroh simply snorted, while Miyagi nodded in solemn agreement.

* * *

Yuushi delighted inwardly at the hiss of pain and pleasure from the redhead that was currently latched onto him like he was the saviour of the world. He rolled his hips forward, running a wet tongue on the smooth expanse of skin that was revealed to him as Gakuto threw his head backwards painfully against the book shelf. He closed his lips around a throbbing blood vessel beneath Gakuto's skin and suckled hard, taking in the keening call that was his name.

"Gods, Yuushi…" moaned his companion, squirming and writhing under his ministrations.

Yuushi retracted his head and watched with half-lidded eyes as Gakuto, who was receiving every single roll of his hips, moaned and squirmed. He licked his lips and smiled. These past few days, having been extremely hectic and demanding, didn't give him any time to properly pay attention to his wants—and Gakuto's as well. That was why he viewed this little photography escapade as a vacation from all the work and a chance to release some pent-up sexual tension. It wasn't all the time, after all, that his slave-driver Keigo was as distracted as he was right now.

He mentally chuckled as he remembered how a jealous and enraged Jiroh practically dragged the diva out of the studio after the shoot, leaving the others gaping after them, including a wide-eyed but guiltily sheepish Ryoma rubbing the back of his head as he apologized to Jiroh's retreating form. He knew that Jiroh had been constantly longing for Keigo's lacking attention and presence, and it seemed that the sleepyhead finally snapped under the pressure his relationship with Keigo was receiving, thus initiating his own action.

Yuushi was pretty sure that right now, Keigo was dutifully bottoming for an overly bellicose Jiroh—which was a rare case—and berating himself for ignoring his boyfriend in favor of Ryoma. He knew, however, that Keigo would do it again if Ryoma acts up—again. It was just how it worked, and he knew that Jiroh knew and accepted that too (for Jiroh and Ryoma were close friends as well, Ryoma having demanded to know the 'person-who-managed-to-rope-the-monkey' upon receiving news that Keigo had a boyfriend). They were just being kids.

Gakuto growled and reached up, hauling his upper body in feat of superior abdominal strength that was one of the results of Nanjiroh's Spartan training—for which Yuushi was now thankful for (Keigo surely was too, because the added stamina would surely help him with Jiroh's insatiable appetite)—and wrapped himself up around his partner. Yuushi grunted as the combined weight of his own body and Gakuto's settled on his thighs—and once again he thanked the training—before returning Gakuto's attack in their newly restarted lip lock.

He ran a hand down the redhead's back, and he felt his companion arch up against him in passion. Never, though, did they release each other's lips. He moved forward and slammed Gakuto's back against the shelf again, knowing that he wouldn't be able to support the weight during sex. He slowly recounted all of Gakuto's known pleasure spots, running his hands—and occasionally his tongue—on them and making the other groan in ecstasy.

This was the fourth time they would be having sex standing, and he knew that Gakuto liked it no matter how much his partner complained about aching thighs and weakened knees. He mentally sent his apologies to the maids who would be cleaning the small lounge room they'd found while they were searching for a peaceful spot (which was hard considering the mansion was run over by rabid tennis players), and found himself growing even harder at the thought.

_Oshitari Yuushi, you would be dead by now if your mother knew just how perverted you are._

He chuckled as Gakuto started tugging at his pants, his shirt already having been unbuttoned a few minutes earlier. He reached down and started helping the redhead with the zippers, throwing his head slightly back as Gakuto started suckling on his neck in turn.

However, as he leaned his head back, his eyes caught a slight glint of light in what was supposedly a completely dark, shut off lounge room. He squinted, turning his head to the side and not letting go of the sliver of light. He followed it up to an uneven corner of a shelf—

_A secret room?!_

"Yuushi…" whined Gakuto, tugging on long strands of dark blue hair.

"Matte, Mukahi," Yuushi whispered silently in a sharp tone that he only used when he was either incensed or serious.

Gakuto frowned in the darkness, put off by the tone of Yuushi's voice. He huffed and untangled himself from his lover, pushing out of Yuushi's arms and darting out of the lounge, slamming the door behind him as he ran off without even rearranging his open shirt.

Yuushi cursed loudly, half his mind berating his lover for being too noisy (someone might have been inside the secret room), and the other half cursing himself for letting his lover leave him with a burgeoning erection. He frowned, taking deep breaths and calming himself. It helped slightly with the erection too. Slightly.

"I'm here already, might as well go…" Yuushi muttered to himself, walking forward and fixing his pants, before buttoning up his shirt. He edged towards the uneven crack between the two shelves and peeked into the slit where the light was coming from. His eyes widened. "A secret room, alright."

Seeing that no one was in, he leaned back and assessed the book shelf, before pushing on it sideways. It slid smoothly sideward silently, but required quite a bit of strength to get it rolling. He was pretty sure no woman—no _ordinary_ woman, he corrected himself as he remembered Seigaku's middle school coach—would've been able to easily open the door without help. He looked into the room with a clear view for the first time.

_An… office? No, an archive._

He slowly stepped inside, making sure the shelf was slid open behind him and the door was closed outside. He looked around, taking in the sheen layer of dust covering the low shelves and the desk nearby. He was careful not to touch anything for fear of disturbing the order and revealing himself. Thankfully, the floor was carpeted, and as such his footsteps weren't as visible and would be easy to mask on his way out.

His forehead crumpled, however, as he saw that the farthest shelf near the darker end of the room had a slot empty. He walked closer and noted that the dust was disturbed, and that it was recent. Whoever had taken that one thing—maybe a book or a journal or a bunch of files—from the shelf had forgotten to turn off the small lamp on the desk.

He walked to the desk, observing a handprint on the dust and a piece of paper sticking out at the side before gently easing open the drawer underneath. The piece of paper that was sticking to the side fell into the drawer face up.

Yuushi froze.

* * *

Keigo groaned slightly as he adjusted his position on the humongous bed, the crick in his neck and the ache in his lower back receding slightly as the minutes ticked past. The dark room was now only filled with silence and his and Jiroh's even, relaxed breaths. Keigo shifted his head and smiled slightly, his nose brushing the slumbering other's cheek. The pleasurable ache in certain areas of his body accompanied by the stickiness reminded him vividly of earlier activities.

He just couldn't believe that Jiroh was attacked by his tantrum in the middle of the photo shoot, and it was _inside Lent manor, _of all places. He knew that occasionally, Jiroh got the 'hives', as Ryoma calls the sudden spur of jealousy and anger and possessiveness. Keigo also understood that it was reasonable because for someone like Jiroh who was always passive, and occasionally needed to release some steam.

But he just _did _not count on it happening today.

He sighed inwardly and frowned, recalling how Jiroh bodily hauled his arse away from the studio room amidst a multitude of similarly gaping players. He faintly remembered Ryoma apologizing to Jiroh as the resident sleepyhead dragged him away, and he chuckled, mentally shaking his head.

Honestly. They were a bunch of kids.

He slowly tried to ease himself out from under Jiroh. The other Hyotei player was sprawled all over him, as if declaring to the world that he was territory out of bounds, branded and taken. Jiroh groaned as Keigo sat himself upright on the bed and stretched his back, but did not wake up. Keigo knew that the other was a very heavy sleeper, and would not wake unless there was something wrong, like a fire or an emergency of some sort. (There was, of course, the exception of food and tennis.)

He took a speedy shower, keeping in mind that there were people waiting outside for him for dinner. He was, after all, the host. He, however, hated the fact that he had to actually take a bath inside this manor. He knew that there were cameras installed all over the room currently recording each and every of their—_his_—move. Not that he had anything to hide. He just wanted his privacy, that's all. After all, having positively not a single flaw on his body didn't mean the absence of his dignity. He was not a common whore to be gawked at.

He sighed, walking out of the shower rooms bare-naked and dried his hair with a towel, which he left to drape around his shoulders as he walked to the nearby suitcase where his clothes were kept. He assumed one of the servants had put it there while he was asleep. However, as he was about to pull his leather pants from the suitcase, the door to the room slammed open violently.

"What the—"

"Keigo!" hissed Yuushi upon seeing him, flinging the doors closed and striding towards him.

Keigo scowled darkly but didn't bother covering himself or hurrying to wear the piece of clothing he held in his hands. "Just _what in the world_ is happening, Yuushi?! I demand an exp—"

Yuushi, however, seized him by the shoulders. "You have _got_ to come with me, Keigo, there is something you must see—"

"Yuushi, if this is one of those petty matters regarding the others—"

"_No_, Keigo, you _know_ I know you don't want to be disturbed during these times—for goodness' _sake_, who do you _think_ I am?!" Yuushi hissed furiously, keeping his voice low as Keigo glared at him and motioned to Jiroh. The sleeping player did nothing but to roll over on the bed.

"Well, then, what is this?" whispered Keigo, slipping on his pants. As he fumbled with the fly of his pants hurriedly—he knew that it had to be something serious if Yuushi barged into his chambers without permission like that.

Yuushi offered his palm up, holding a dusty piece of paper on it for Keigo to see. Keigo, who was buttoning up his white Egyptian silk shirt, froze as he glanced down at the paper.

Eyes widened and breaths were drawn.

"…where…?" Keigo exhaled in a slow, silent rush of air.

"In a hidden room near the living quarters in the east wing," Yuushi muttered in a hushed tone, keeping his voice low and imperceptible from the cameras around the room. He also made sure that the paper was hidden from view by his and Keigo's forms. He quickly stuffed it back into a pocket, before grabbing Keigo's arm and proceeding to drag him off.

However, Jiroh awoke with a shaky groan.

"…Kei-chan? What's wrong…? Where—_yawn_—are you…?" he groggily mumbled, rising from the bed and letting the covers fall down to his hips. "Stay, Kei-chan, staaa—"

"Go back to sleep, Jiroh," snapped Keigo a tad bit too harshly, silencing the other.

Jiroh remained still on the bed.

Keigo paused, realizing he had just spoken to his boyfriend in a manner a touch too severe. He sighed, placing his head in his hand. His mind was swimming with that image Yuushi showed him. He sighed again and lifted his head, smiling apologetically to a still stock Jiroh, approaching the bed and leaning over the smaller player.

"Gomen ne, Jiroh," he murmured gently, putting his hands on either side of Jiroh's head and gently tilting the other's face up. He placed a soft kiss on the smooth forehead and the plump lips, before facing the said player. "Something important came up. I need to go. I promise I'll make it up to you, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, Keigo placed another more passionate kiss on Jiroh's lips, before standing up and sweeping out of the room with a strangely unsettled Yuushi in tow.

Jiroh's eyes narrowed in annoyance, before he sighed deeply and sank back into the bed, snuggling into the still warm comforters and pillows.

_Again, huh._

* * *

Marui grinned and rearranged his cards, chewing happily on his extra-sweet gum and congratulating himself for being so damned lucky at card games. (Well, except for when Yukimura was there.) He nudged Jackal, who was beside him and looked like he was currently in deep dilemma. The bald Rikkaidai player hissed in annoyance. Across him, there was Shinji and Kamio, who were both holding up fine, being somewhere in the middle rank. Niou was an altogether different matter, however. The white-haired player was at the very bottom of the ranks, even lower than Jackal.

"Call!" he announced, spreading his cards down. "Full house!"

Twin groans erupted from Kamio and Shinji, while Niou banged his head against the headrest of his squishy sofa. Jackal growled in annoyance and threw his cards down. It seemed he was last this time.

"I almost had it there!" whined Kamio, revealing his three spades.

"Too bad—I got there first!" Marui sang in a sing-song voice, before rearranging and reshuffling the cards. They were seated in one corner of the sparsely populated studio room, where their only other neighbors were Fuji, Ryoma, Tezuka , Toushi, and the photographer Ryuuka. Toushi was assisting Ryuuka while he took bonus pictures of Fuji and Ryoma, who were in turn modeling for them for fun. The others had gone off earlier to go gallivant elsewhere around the manor before dinner.

"Another game?" offered Marui, grinning like a bobcat.

Niou hissed a sharp 'no thanks' before rushing to stand and attempting to run off somewhere unreachable for the meantime to escape his penalty for being the overall loser. However, Jackal and Marui were both too fast for him, and had managed to snag his arm before he could escape. He tugged ferociously, but they held.

"Let—go!"

"No way you're leaving me here with the penalty alone, Niou!" snapped Jackal, tugging him down forcefully to the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, penalty!" Marui nodded, bouncing in his seat and still grinning like a bobcat. "You lost; your penalty!"

Niou opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but he was cut off as Keigo and Yuushi barged through the room, heading for the opposite door. All eyes turned to the two, who were evidently having a hushed argument while rushing off somewhere. There were two doors to the lounge, one from the east wing and another from the west wing. Marui didn't know the entire mansion, but he knew as much.

"Keigo? Where you off to?" called Ryoma, slightly adjusting his himself against Tezuka, who was now modeling—albeit a bit forcefully—for both Fuji and Ryuuka.

But Keigo didn't even hear Ryoma. He just walked through the room and ignored them as if they were all ghosts, not seen and not heard. He was far too preoccupied, and from what Ryoma could see, he was unsettled deeply. Ryoma frowned. Something was going on, and Keigo wasn't telling him.

However, as Tezuka's arm tightened around his smaller waist, thoughts about Keigo were lost. Keigo was an adult; he could deal with his own problems, and he surely would tell Ryoma if there was something life-threatening.

Ryoma turned back to Tezuka and lifted his face, placing a soft kiss on the elder player's chin. He slightly smiled as triplet flashes came off within seconds of each other. Honestly, if he didn't know Fuji intimately, he'd think these three were family. They were so alike in terms of interests.

Ryoma slightly turned his head towards the cameramen, laying his head against Tezuka's shoulder as the captain lowered his head to brush a soft kiss on the younger's nape. His eyes narrowed. They _did_ look alike, in a strange sort of way. Fuji had the same face frame and nose as Toushi, and Toushi had the exact same bright emerald eyes as Ryuuka.

"Ryoma-chan, is there something wrong? Your facial expression's all sour," Fuji broke into his thoughts. He had a hand on his camera and a worried look on his face.

"Huh? Oh, no, I was just thinki—"

"DID SOMEBODY SEE YUUSHI?!" blared somebody from one side of the door. Heads turned to find a thoroughly out-of-breath Gakuto panting very hard with a hand on the doorframe. "Well?!"

"Err, he went that way with Keigo," directed Ryoma, pointing to the other end of the room where the door was still ajar from Keigo and Yuushi's prior abusive passage. Without further ado, Gakuto rushed off towards the said direction, not a single word sent back to Ryoma, who huffed. "One 'thank you' would be very much appreciated."

Just then, Kevin entered with a tray full of candies and biscuits and wafers and whatnots, followed by two maids who had glasses and pitchers of apple juice with them. "Yo! Snack time! 'Nuff of that modeling thing, come on! Food, it's food!"

Ryoma and Toushi simultaneously rolled their eyes. Kevin was definitely a glutton, that much was certain.

A sudden idea popped up in Ryoma's head as he walked out of the camera's range and reached for a wafer on the tray Kevin set down on the table. He turned to Ryuuka and tugged on the photographer's sleeve. "Ne, ne, I want to have photos of me and Kuni-bu and Syuu-chan in the old garden!"

"The old garden?" repeated Ryuuka.

"Yeah, yeah, the one we used to go to all the time long ago!" nodded Ryoma eagerly, now bouncing on his heels like a child.

"Oooooh, that one!" Ryuuka nodded in dawning comprehension, smiling as he remembered the rapturous all-season beauty of that particular garden. "The one with the tall rose hedgerows where you used to play Hide-and-Seek in with Keigo and always lost, hm?"

Ryoma's face darkened and he pouted. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Nani, nani," smiled Fuji eagerly. "What is this about, Ryuuka-san?"

Ryoma's pout elongated and he harrumphed, clinging to Tezuka and drawing away from Fuji, who simply chuckled, knowing the boy was simply bluffing. Ryuuka proceeded to tell the story of how Ryoma always challenged Keigo into games of Hide-and-Seek around the hedgerows, before getting lost and proceeding to bawl his lungs out. Of course, the bawling was heaps of help when it came to finding and retrieving him from wherever he hid, but the fact that Ryoma was small and dark-haired made him extremely hard to find, especially when the day drew to a close.

Ryuuka led the way to the old gardens, followed by Toushi, Kevin, Ryoma, Tezuka, and Fuji, who were all listening aptly on how Ryoma became an expert at getting lost around the hedgerows (well, Ryoma was still clinging to Tezuka and whining, so technically he barely counted).

"The old gardens were originally tended to by Sayo-san," explained Ryuuka as they walked past the newer gardens and the pool area. "I'm pretty sure Richard would have assigned gardeners to take care of it, so it should be in pretty good condition. As you might've already figured, Sayo was an outdoor person, and she loved flowers—roses and lilies among the lot—so the entire manor was overrun by gardens during the time she was alive. Not that anyone complained."

They arrived at a small back garden a ways bit from the house, the ached entryway and small fountain in the circle inside enticing and elegant. There were vines crawling all over the archways, and the hedgerows were flourishing with a burst of color.

"Whoa," Kevin gaped, slack-jawed. "She took care of all this?"

"She did," Ryoma nodded. "Very hardworking, Sayo-oba-san. Mom and Aunt Yukiko would always tell us stories. I never did get why she loved the flowers before and why she tired herself all day to take care of the flowers, but well, I can't deny they're beautiful."

"Hey, there are swings over there," Kevin pointed out, dragging a grumbling Toushi after him. They walked past the fountain in the circle and disappeared into another archway in the tall hedgerows.

"No, Kevin, stay here! That way's—" yelled Ryoma after their form, but it appeared Kevin was already a bit far off. There was only a yell of acknowledgement that sounded like a 'yeah' from the blonde who apparently didn't hear him right. Ryoma groaned. "—the hedgerow maze."

Ryuuka chuckled. "They'll be coming back, rest assured," he smiled. "Toushi's a good navigator. He doesn't even need a map or a compass—he's got this strange tracking intuition that directs him to the right way. He's never gotten lost even just once, even when he was a child."

"Good, because damn, Kevin's a hopeless loser when it comes to directions," grumbled Ryoma. Then he paused.

Tezuka, who was standing silently as usual and listening into the conversation, narrowed his eyes. "You said since 'even when he was a child'."

Ryuuka stiffened up. _Damn, now this messes things up._

"What are you—" Tezuka started, but was cut off as Ryoma wrenched out of his embrace and scampered to Fuji.

"Syuusuke!" Ryoma exclaimed, rushing to Fuji, who had crumpled to his knees and was clutching his head. "Syuusuke, what's wrong?!"

"D-Daijoubu, Ryoma-chan," Fuji smiled weakly, rubbing his face. "I just got a bit dizzy all of a sudden. The flower's smell…"

Ryoma's forehead crumpled. _Flower's smell? There's no smell. In fact, the air over here is fresh._

Fuji shook his head one more time as if trying to clear it, before sighing. "Sorry, Ryoma-chan, but maybe we can go back inside now? I'm just…"

Ryoma frowned. _Maybe Syuu-chan's just overly sensitive to flowers. Yeah, yeah, that's it. Syuu-chan's not sick. You're just being paranoid, Ryoma._

"Of course, of course," Ryoma muttered, looking up at Tezuka, who leaned down to assist Syuusuke up and back through the garden paths they walked. Ryoma looked back to Ryuuka, who smiled and ushered them back.

"I'll go and fetch Kevin and Toushi. You two go ahead and take Syuusuke inside. Let him rest. It might be the heat," Ryuuka said, before turning and heading towards the hedgerow maze, where Kevin and Toushi had gotten themselves lost. However, he did not go without catching the narrowed glance Tezuka was sending his way. The clever captain had apparently already figured out what the connection was, and he was sure Keigo would soon follow, if he did not already know.

He sighed.

Things were starting to get more and more complicated by the minute.

* * *

Toushi sighed as Kevin dragged him along inside the hedgerow maze, and he struggled to make himself remember the twists and turns they were taking. He knew Kevin naturally sucked at directions, and that he was their only hope of getting back on their own. Of course, he knew that Keigo would probably send someone to fetch them if they didn't get back within an hour—actually, he just _knew_ that Keigo would send a whole search party and even a helicopter to hover over the maze for them for the sake of extravagance—but, well, who ever wanted to be indebted and be forced to worship the monkey king?

"Hold your horses, Kevin, where are we going?!" Toushi exclaimed as they took their umpteenth turn.

"We're getting ourselves lost, Toushi, what else?" grinned Kevin. "This way we'll surely be alone."

"Wh—what?" Toushi sputtered. "What the hell—if you wanted us to be alone, we could've just gone and searched for a private room and locked it, right?"

"Well, no, that's not fool-proof," Kevin shrugged, stopping by another circle where there was a smaller fountain with the statue of a cherub in the middle. "See, this entire manor's probably overrun by cameras. So this is probably the only place where we can really be alone."

Toushi raised his eyebrows. "What in the world are you planning on doing anyways?"

"This," Kevin grinned, before grabbing Toushi's collar and pulling him down for a heated kiss. Toushi released a grunt of surprise, before locking his own arms around Kevin's form and slowly melting into the heat. Tongues touched and mouths were mapped as they continued to cling to each other, before somebody cleared a throat.

The two of them broke off as abruptly as they'd started, Kevin glaring hotly at the intruder, while Toushi groaning in embarrassment. "What the hell—?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your personal time, young men, but its dinnertime," Ryuuka smiled, discreetly holding his camera by one hand and trying to pretend he didn't take a picture. He couldn't have just stood there and let the moment slip by without a shot. This was one of those moments, after all, that were worth noting, especially for him. "Don't worry; I promise I won't disturb you again, should I ever cross your paths next time around."

Toushi groaned louder this time, hearing the promise in the other man's tone. They would _definitely_ cross paths again.

Kevin, on the other hand, had something else he wanted to know. "How did you find your way so fast?" voiced Kevin.

Ryuuka chuckled. "Let's just say I've been here enough times that I won't ever forget how to get around. I even know a few handy shortcuts that make things much easier."

Kevin frowned. "I don't like that answer," he said, but Ryuuka just shrugged.

"Ah, well, Syuusuke, Ryoma and Tezuka-kun are all already inside," Ryuuka continued. "Syuusuke grew a bit woozy; must have been this dreadful heat. In any case, I heard some people shouting dinner, so I'll assume that it _is_ dinnertime and it's time for the two of you to get moving and stop—ah, gallivanting around the area. Now, come, come. Let's go; we should not keep our hosts waiting!"

He gaily walked out of the circle, fully expecting both boys to follow after him. Kevin looked absolutely miffed as he followed after Ryuuka, while Toushi's face promised pain for the elder man in exchange for the awful embarrassment. It was not everyday that he was caught kissing with his boyfriend by none other than his father, after all.

* * *

Dinner was once again a curious event.

The dishes were, as usual, extravagant and positively rapturous, and the table was lively with youthful chatter and cheer. Despite the blaring heat penetrating the walls and insulation, they were cheerful and unstoppable.

It was _food_ talk, after all.

"Oi, Momo! Give me back my sausage!!" snapped Eiji, pulling a mean face to top his voice off and failing.

"Yadda yo, Eiji-senpai," whined Momoshiro. "This is like, the last sausage!!"

"You can always order another batch, you know," Kawamura stated exasperatedly, trying to avoid the scuffle that was erupting in between Eiji and Momoshiro. In all honesty, those two were starting to get on everyone's nerves. It was the same issue every dinnertime.

"The moron doesn't know that, Taka-san," Kamio blandly stated, forking a piece of meat on his plate and daubing it with sauce. "He's too dumb to know that."

"What did you say?!" erupted Momoshiro, growling and grabbing Kamio's collar.

Not to be undone, Kamio erupted all the same, and thus started a three-way scuffle.

Ryoma sighed from his seat, his eyes doing the usual sweeping over the dinner table. The faces were the same—he didn't count the Lents as a part of their dinner anyway—and the food was the same. The smiles were the same, the voices were the same, but there was something off in the atmosphere. He frowned as he watched Toushi and Ryuuka offhandedly chatting about miscellaneous things with a level of familiarity uncommon with people who aren't related by blood.

_Maybe that's it?_

He swept around the table once more.

_No, that's not it._

He moved forward and smiled as his eyes met with Fuji's tired ones. The tensai had insisted attending dinner before retiring to a room to rest. It had been decided that they would be going home late—Ryoma was betting they'd actually stay the night in the manor, but he didn't even want to imagine that—and hearing the news, he'd decided to force Fuji into resting up and not doing anything further stressing anymore. Apart from the fact that Fuji was one of the aces for Team Japan, he was also Ryoma's boyfriend.

And Ryoma did not let his boyfriends down.

He snorted at that thought as his eyes slid over a very grumpy Jiroh playing with his food and grumbling incoherently. From what Ryoma could make out, there was a frightening number of swearwords within Jiroh's grumbled rant, and there was this ominous dark cloud surrounding the very upset Hyotei player.

_Keigo, what have you got to say for yourself, huh? Jiroh's upset. I think he's trying to say you're a horrible lay._

His eyes narrowed.

_Keigo._

That was what was off.

The normally cheerfully arrogant Atobe heir was for once silent and contemplative. It was as if he had something heavy and serious on his shoulders. The last time Ryoma had seen him like this was during the time when he had to make the all-important speech when he'd claimed the right to be the official heir to the main line.

He reached over to Keigo underneath the table with his foot and nudged him sharply. Keigo's eyes swerved to him and settled in a glare that he understood as 'bother me now and you'll regret it'. He sighed and frowned, returning to his food.

_Che.__ Fine, be that way._

He turned instead to Fuji and started coddling the still woozy tensai who was trying to eat up as much as he could. "Syuusuke, you alright now? Or are you still feeling off?"

Fuji smiled at him. "Just a little bit drowsy, Ryoma-chan. And I seem to be starting a headache."

"You're not _really_ sick, are you?" fussed Ryoma, reaching up and feeling if the older player had a fever. "No, there's no fever. I guess it's just really the heat?"

"Most likely," nodded Fuji, before pushing Ryoma back to his food. "Now eat up, Ryoma-chan, and don't worry too much about me. I'll be fine after some rest."

Ryoma sent a doubtful look down Fuji's way, but it was only returned with a persuasive, reassuring smile. He simply gave a hopeless sigh, before returning to his food. He was pretty sure that he would get his way and have Fuji rest up later anyway. No single living being on the face of the planet Earth would be able to resist his patented Echizen Ryoma Puppy Dog Eyes™. Not even the tensai Fuji Syuusuke.

He settled on this happy thought of his, before returning to his dinner with renewed vigor and digging in eagerly, unaware of the similar sweeping glances from the head of the table.

Richard silently studied the dynamics of the relationship between the young people currently gathered at his table. The bond of friendship was strong, that much he could see. Some of the pairs were practically inseparable, he thought, as he glanced over at the red-haired kid stuck by the black-haired, clean-cut boy. If he wasn't mistaken, the pair was a doubles pair, and he could see the reason why they were called to play doubles crystal clear.

However, as his eyes settled on the nearby younger pair, he frowned. The blonde was happily eating away as was usual based from what he'd gathered, but the white-haired kid was taking his merry time and talking to the commissioned studio photographer Ryuuka. Ever since that night they'd all had dinner for the first time, he'd been unable to take his mind off the white-haired kid named Toushi. He knew his ears did not fail him; the teen had uttered 'mother' upon seeing Sayo's portrait.

There was no mistake.

However, what was strange was that he did not get the feeling of unsettledness with Toushi. Sure, he felt the surge of jealousy as Toushi conversed openly and lightly with Ryuuka. There was someone who was possibly his son—or _half_-son—and said son was being close to someone else other than him. He was sure that when Toushi turned that way, he could see a light in his those emerald eyes that indicated close, almost-fatherly—if not already—and he hated that.

His mind flashed back to the time when Sayo was alive and well, and he remembered that Sayo and Ryuuka used to get along just as well. He wondered then what Ryuuka had that attracted people to him, what Ryuuka had that _he_ didn't have.

He frowned.

His eyes slid across to the other side of the table, settling on a blue-eyed, brown-haired elder player beside the youngest Echizen. A surge of an ill, uneasy feeling crawled up his spine and settled in his chest, as if waiting for him to open his mouth so it could jump out.

Who was this young player who unsettled him so much?

He was snapped out of his thoughts as the young Atobe heir stood up smoothly from the table.

"Thank you for the meal; I'm retiring for the night, please refrain from disturbing me," Keigo announced, but only half the table heard him, partially because of the all-out food fight that was erupting between half of Seigaku and half of Fudou, and partially because of his silent, subdued voice. He walked out of the room quickly, and Yuushi followed after him, abandoning dinner with naught a single backward glance.

"What's with them?" asked Yukimura silently.

"Saa," shrugged Fuji.

"Who cares," grumbled Ryoma and Jiroh.

Gakuto, however, bit his lip and lowered his head.

* * *

Fuji inwardly cackled in victory as Ryoma assisted him into the room that was proffered by their host. He had already excused himself for the night, due to his light illness. However, the fact that he was ill did not kill or even hamper the surging feeling of satisfaction from victory he was currently feeling. He could have been oozing smugness out of his fingers, he thought to himself, as he grinned inwardly like a mad man. Ryoma was treating him like a prince; nothing would ever beat that.

On the outside, however, his face portrayed the normal ever-smiling Fuji Syuusuke. No, it would not do to bring down the mask in public.

"Ryoma-chan, really, I can take care of myself," chuckled Fuji as Ryoma practically acted as a human crutch for him, which was, given the fact that he could still walk straight, completely unnecessary.

Ryoma shook his head stubbornly. "Yadda. You're _sick_, Syuu-chan. No excuses."

"Listen to him, Syuusuke," Tezuka chuckled silently, following them into the room and closing the door behind him. He watched as Ryoma helped Fuji get into bed and tucked him in like a child. "You _are_ sick, after all. You can't expect us to leave you be."

Fuji simply muttered his thanks, smiling as Ryoma snuggled on the bed beside him and placed and arm around his torso. "Are you sleepy too, Ryo-chan?"

"Kind of," murmured Ryoma, snuggling his head against the elder player's shoulder. "…warm…"

Fuji watched Tezuka arrange for him a glass of water and some medicine, all the while petting Ryoma's head. His eyes roved around the spacious feminine-looking room, taking in the heavy-looking pastel curtains and the old wood furniture. "I wonder whose room this is. It's very… artistic."

"Really?" hummed Ryoma. "I don't see anything special."

"Well, let's both just trust the judgment of Syuusuke's eyes when it comes to those things, Ryoma-chan," Tezuka silently replied, sitting on the other edge of the bed and assisting Fuji into an upright position. Ryoma whined at the disturbance. "Take the medicine. It'll help make you feel better."

Fuji smiled and conceded, still looking around the room. As his eyes settled on the bedside table, he handed the now empty glass of water back to Tezuka. Tezuka curiously followed his gaze to the trinket he was staring at on the table.

"A music box," smiled Ryoma, before crawling over Fuji and gently lifting the music box from beside the bed. He twisted the key to the side as tight as it would go, before lifting the cover and revealing a picture of Sayo and a baby boy with bright blue eyes and brown hair. The melody slowly lulled Fuji's eyes to a half-mast. "The song is pretty. What is it?"

Tezuka rolled his shoulders in a shrug to indicate he did not know it. He and Ryoma proceeded to pore over the picture, while Fuji screwed his eyes closed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Flashes of pain were crawling up and down his nerves. "It's Pachelbel's Canon in D," he softly remarked, before slowly resting back against the pillows and taking a deep breath. Then he asked himself how he knew that without thinking about it or listening to it first.

"Canon in D. You really do know a lot abou—Syuu-chan?" repeated Ryoma, before stopping in mid-sentence as he saw Fuji's pained expression.

"Syuusuke. Daijoubu?" Tezuka asked in worry, settling the still playing music box on the bedside table and placing a hand on Fuji's forehead and feeling for a fever.

"I seem to be starting a migraine," Fuji replied weakly, a ghost of what he hoped was a reassuring smile flitting over his face before it contorted under a wave of pain. He tried to push back the persistent flashes of pain—accompanied by several blurred images—but he failed.

He frowned, focusing instead on the images flashing before his eyes. They seemed like distant memories; that much he could see. Maybe some memories of the past, he thought to himself, that were forgotten through time. He'd heard of cases like that. However, he inwardly wondered why he was remembering them now. Did he hit his head? Did something trigger them?

The pain was as continuous as the melody that was playing from the music box. It was silent in the background, and he could feel Ryoma and Tezuka's warmth surrounding him in a cocoon of comfort, but he was in pain. Worlds of pain.

His breath hitched as a steady stream of images came floating to his conscience.

"_Okaa-san, what is this?" a child's voice said. _His_ voice said._

_Small, stubby arms reached forward to touch an elegant wooden box with a wrought iron key sticking out of the side. Another shapely hand—a woman's hand—reached over gently and held the box up in front of little Syuusuke, and a woman's face swam into his view. The white-haired, blue-eyed woman smiled._

"_This is called a music box."_

"_A music box?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "It plays music?"_

_The woman chuckled and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "Yes, it does," she beamed, before holding the box forward and twisting the key. She lifted the lid and the cascading notes trickled out, entrancing the young boy in front of her. "Do you know what song it's playing?"_

"_No, but it's very pretty," smiled the boy._

"_It's called Canon," said the lady. "Canon in D, by Pachelbel."_

"_Pachelbel's Canon in D," he repeated slowly._

"_Yes, Yusuke. It's your song," nodded Sayo. "Nostalgic, sweet, and endearing. Just like my lovely son."_

_And he was engulfed in the smell of her long hair and the warmth of her wholehearted hug._

* * *

As soon as dinner was finished, Gakuto managed to slip out of the lounge room and escape the clutches of his teammates, who were enforcing a round of Dare Poker with Rikkaidai (which was essentially suicide in itself, considering Yukimura was joining and both Keigo and Yuushi were nowhere to be found).

He immediately made a beeline for the private parlour he knew Yuushi and Keigo frequented, partly because of the fact that the hidden cameras in the room were all easily disabled, and also partly because it was far from the frequented areas of the manor, thus eliminating possibility of a walk-in disturbance.

As his feet took him where he needed to go automatically, he frowned at Yuushi's actions. He knew that something had to be up, and it was something serious if Yuushi was acting this way. However, he told himself, it did not justify cold shoulders. He was currently being ignored, and he was getting tired of it. He was pretty sure there were others who were as well, but it wasn't like he cared. He was known to be selfish, after all.

He soon arrived by the parlour's double doors, and he took a deep breath, before grabbing the knob and slowly opening. He peeked inside, and his eyes widened. Yuushi and Keigo were whispering heatedly among themselves, faces inches close, the argument heated and full of tension.

Gakuto, taking it the wrong way, was shocked and stumbled against the door. The whispering stopped.

"Send them off, Yuushi, whoever it is," Keigo snapped heatedly.

"You don't have to tell me, Keigo," grumbled an evidently upset Yuushi on the other side.

Gakuto froze in mid-sniff, before exploding, "YUUSHI NO BAKA!"

Yuushi, who hadn't even opened the door yet, raised both eyebrows on the other side. "Gakuto? Is that you? Gomen, but this is really a bad time—"

But he found he was talking to an empty hallway.

He frowned in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. He was sure that was Gakuto he heard, but the redhead must have run off already for some reason. He sighed. He just didn't understand why he put up with the redhead's peculiarity and loudness at times, but well, he was damned because he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

However, his thoughts were ripped from his boyfriend as Keigo hissed from behind him in annoyance. He closed the doors he was holding and rolled his eyes as he walked back towards Keigo, who was impatiently drumming his fingers on the table currently laden with two laptops, folders, and lots of picture albums.

"Have you found it yet?" snapped Keigo.

"My computer doesn't work at the speed of light, Keigo, and neither does my brain," deadpanned Yuushi, before seating himself in front of his laptop. He started scrolling through the search results. They were currently nitpicking the family's database, digging for data dated sixteen years prior. It was no easy feat; sixteen years ago, things weren't quite as computerized as the present day, and as such, human error during data transfer from paper to database was a big factor.

However, irregardless of human error, they needed the data.

"Here it is!" Yuushi softly exclaimed, and Keigo immediately scrambled to view his laptop's screen, not minding the action's uncouthness. Yuushi hurriedly clicked the line that read 'Lent-Shimizu Sayo; Second Pregnancy and Delivery, 1989 December to 1990 August'.

However, both of them cursed as a window came up and read 'The information you requested is erroneous data, and has been removed from the database'.

"What the hell?" Keigo hissed. "What does erroneous data mean? What is _wrong information_ doing in the database active files list?!"

Yuushi, however, froze. He slowly reread the phrase. "Erroneous data… oh gods, this sector file is using the old system!"

"English please, Yuushi," Keigo deadpanned. "I'm no computer genius like you are."

"No, no, see here," Yuushi turned to Keigo, abandoning the computer for a second and starting to explain to an aptly listening Keigo. "The database operates on dual systems that can work with each other seamlessly that you won't even notice there are two systems. My father and grandfather created this dual system and enforced it only within the Atobe and Oshitari family databases—it isn't even on sale."

"We call the two systems 'old' and 'new'. Essentially, the new system operates faster and smoother than the old one, but the old one has more protections and codes, which is handy for making foolproof shields against hackers who might stumble upon them. But the systems use the new one because, hey, the database is already under multiple layers of firewalls and has practically an army of anti-viruses to kill whatever gets in, _if_ it gets in," Yuushi rattled off. "So basically—"

"—the old system is used only for hiding things within the family _from_ the family," Keigo breathed in realization.

"Exactly," Yuushi nodded, turning back to the computer. "Not even the inner family knows this; only the heads know about it, and the knowledge will only be passed to the heirs and select few people that are trustworthy in the eyes of the family council. You know how nitpicky they are. And when you use the old system, you can create a code of your own, so no one else can open it but you and the people you tell the code to. You create your own prompts as well."

"Then how will we—oh," Keigo asked, but cut himself in the middle of his sentence as Yuushi started hacking the codes. If there was anyone who would be able to crack the codes, it would be Yuushi. "How did you know it was using the old system, though?"

"There are some keywords that the new system _never_ use, so when you see those keywords in messages like these—for instance, 'erroneous' is a word the new system never uses under normal condition (it would say 'wrong data'), because some idiots like Davinia probably won't understand it—you know that it's the old system, and it's prompting you for the code," Yuushi explain in a subdued voice as he concentrated on his work. "This will take a few minutes, Keigo. Sit down and amuse yourself for a while."

However, Keigo was working his mind as well. His eyes rested on the piece of paper—a picture—lying face up on the table. A laughing and _very _pregnant Sayo was watching an ever-inquisitive five-and-a-half year old Yusuke poking at a harassed-looking little kitten with his stick toy.

"Sayo was pregnant—probably already around eight months, since this picture is dated July 1990, a month before her death—while Yusuke was two years old. She had _another_ son. But with _whom_?" pondered Keigo aloud. "And _where_ is this child? Where is Yusuke? There are _two_ heirs to the Lent line, but only one is legal, apparently, since the other child can't be Richard's. Or can it?"

"There is a slight possibility," Yuushi answered after a long silence, resting back and letting the data load as he finished prying apart the codes. "She was in Seattle for about nine months before her death, correct? Which means that there is a possibility of the second child's conception right before she left. However, from what I've heard, Richard was not in good terms with her at those times. That was when the abuse rumors came forth. And of course, from that, we can't discard rape as a possibility either. And… yeah, to think of it, doesn't that fit? Nine months equals the time of her pregnancy. That's also probably the reason why Richard didn't know of her second pregnancy until long after, because had he known, I'm pretty sure he would have pressured for an abortion, or a disownment."

The screen flickered and the file opened.

"Finally!" exhaled Yuushi, grumbling about slow intranet and database systems. "I swear I'm pressuring dad for a system upgrade after this."

Keigo and Yuushi leaned over the screen, and Yuushi immediately hit the shortcut to enlarge the text. Keigo snorted absently, before starting to read.

_**Lent-Shimizu Sayo; Second Pregnancy and Delivery, 1989 December to 1990 August**  
File #908, CDD 4 September 1990_

_Name: Lent-Shimizu Sayo (DECEASED)  
Husband: Lent, Richard  
First Born; Lent-Shimizu Yusuke (5 and a half years of age by file date)  
Location (by file date): Seattle, Washington_

_Date of Death: 25 August 1990  
Location: Seattle Children's Hospital, Seattle, Washington_

_Reason: Complications during childbirth, stress- and depression-related (due to 'death' of first born Yusuke). (Cover story: Car accident.)_

Keigo's eyes widened. "Cover story? Complications during childbirth…? What the…?"

Yuushi was similarly shocked and speechless. "Now this is starting to feel like a soap opera, Keigo. Why the hell would they hide something like this…?"

"Wait, wait, that 'death' of first born Yusuke part has an extension file link. Click it," Keigo nudged Yuushi, and the expert hacker followed. Having already hacked into the system once, he didn't need to do anything else; the old system just let him into the other file. He noted, though, the 'CDD' by the file number, meaning it was also a coded, hidden file.

_**Ext. File: Lent-Shimizu Yusuke**  
File #908-1, CDD 4 September 1990_

_Name: Lent-Shimizu Yusuke  
Mother: Lent-Shimizu Sayo  
Father: Lent, Richard_

_DOB: 29 February 1986  
Location: Miami Children's Hospital, Miami, Florida_

_Kidnapping Incident, August 1990_

_Orchestrated by Richard Lent (father), cooperation with either the mafia or the cartel (complete information unavailable). Thought to have died due to the bomb explosion. 'Death' drove mother (Lent-Shimizu Sayo) into depression._

_FILE INCOMPLETE_

"So he IS alive," breathed Keigo. "I knew it, I just _knew it!_"

"But wait, _why_ would Richard want to kill his first born? And it's a _boy_, Keigo, and this boy would be already OLDER than us, a legal heir, a perfect candidate to replace YOU," pointed out Yuushi. "Why would Richard orchestrate a kidnapping with the mafia?"

That one completely stumped Keigo.

There was nothing, _absolutely_ nothing he could think of. Richard, deep inside he knew, was not a bad person. He could see that Richard loved Sayo, and he was sure that things—things heavy enough to unsettle their relationship—happened, and from there on things got all tangled up and complicated—but there _had_ to be a catalyst.

Something…

"Go back to the Sayo file," Keigo said silently, thinking.

The Sayo file continued:

_Second Born  
Date of Birth: 25 August 1990  
Time of Birth: 10:45 PM  
Birth name given by father—_

Keigo's eyes widened as he read the following sentence.

He took a shaky breath as he tried to comprehend the grounding information that was being presented right before his eyes.

"This… what…?"

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(R__evised Version)_

* * *

Pretty short, this chapter. Gomen, gomen. It has to end there. Actually I added extra stuff here that shouldn't be. Tri's gonna be mad.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 07.19.07  
First Revision Version: 07.20.07  
Second Revision Version: 07.21.07 _


	32. Step Thirty One: Foul Play

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Yeah. So I'm trying to write humor one-shots, but I'm hopeless at it. (I've heard most people say I specialize at angst and drama, so maybe I'll stick to that?) So I'll pour my inspi here instead. I'm pretty sure you're all glad to hear that, because there are certain people—(insert blunt stare here)—who have been**_ bugging_** me all week night and day. You guys know who you are.

**IMPORTANT NOTE (PLEASE, I BEG YOU, READ THIS): **Kia-chan and Tria-chan are both VERY disappointed. If we could stick our MSN emoticons into here, you would've already received a FLOOD of \argh and \sweat and \hdesk and \rawr emoticons. They all express our deep disappointments. (takes a deep breath) **PLEASE GO BACK A PAGE AND READ THE LAST CHAPTER _VERY_ CAREFULLY. PLEASE DO NOT SPEED READ. DIGEST WHAT YOU ARE READING. (Tri-insert: ASSUMEAGE WILL ONLY CONFUZZLE YOU MORE, SO DO NOT ASSUME THINGS.)** Because, man, we are SURE we did NOT lack with clues! (whines) You have GOT to get it so we can go on with the story! (sigh) You should've gotten it already and are not still spouting the majority of the questions we received!!! The clues were right there, RIGHT THERE! (whiiiiiine)

You people are really _forgetful_ too, aren't you? … (insert notorious snicker here) Don't worry. Kia-chan will make sure you _remember _in this chapter. (ebil grin)

Also, we have launched a new collaboration penname. **After One Step, all of our collaboration stories (yes, there are more) will be found under _Teh__ Twinnesses Presents_, our new collab penname.** For more information on an upcoming and already planned Harry Potter story, please go to the collab penname profile. Links are on my profile page. We are also, of course, having another story on Prince of Tennis after this. We just love the fandom too much.

Oh, and **I've also launched a YukiRyo mini multi-part story, but I am not posting on FFN; I'm posting them chapters up on LiveJournal. Links to both the story and the journal are in my profile. Story's entitled "Persuasion"**, written for and inspired by Tria-chan. You guys might also want to credit my official nagger Tola, who nags me night and day for the chapters you all love.

**Disclaimer(s):** Standard disclaimers apply.

**Warning(s):** Err… nudity… and some lime (read: heavy petting), I guess.

* * *

**- CELEBRATING A THOUSAND -**

**Step Thirty-One: Foul Play**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Yuushi knew that Keigo had problems with lots of things, most notably his ego—a statement the diva would definitely readily contest despite it being spoken in honest truth—but stupidity was never one of them. He knew that as both of them sat inside the small room in front of the computer screens, Keigo had already figured everything out and was already weighing the possible next steps and the consequences of each, just like he had been trained to do ever since childhood. 

"What do we do now, Keigo?" Yuushi prompted after a few more seconds of silence.

Keigo's eyes simply remained trained on the computer screen, slowly moving as if reading and rereading the words displayed in plain view.

_Second Born  
Date of Birth; __25 August 1990  
Time of Birth: __10:45 PM_

_Birth name given by biological father, Kairou Ryuuka, after mother's death due to birth complications (refer to Linked File #907, Life and Death of Lent-Shimizu Sayo for further information)._

_Birth Name: Kairou Shimizu Toushi  
Gender: Male  
Ethnicity: Asian – Japanese_

_(For complete information on Kairou Shimizu Toushi, please refer to Ext. File #908-2, Kairou Shimizu Toushi.)_

_Child handed off to biological father; existence hidden from rest of family. The only person aware of child's birth and mother's death was Robert Lent (refer to File #503, Robert Lent). _

"Hand me my phone," Keigo silently said, and Yuushi complied promptly. As soon as the phone was in his hand, Keigo immediately hit Contacts and scrolled to the number named as Robert Lent. "What do you say let's leave the explanations to Uncle Robert this time, hmm, Yuushi?"

Yuushi simply shrugged, leaning back against the sofa and watching Keigo raise the slim phone to his ear. After about a minute of silence and impatient finger tapping, Keigo finally spoke again.

"**_Ah, Uncle Robert, bonsoir_**," Keigo greeted promptly in smooth, flawless French. "**_How is the first autumn night in _****_Paris_****_ this year?_**"

Yuushi's lips quirked. Keigo was willing to wait? No, he didn't think so.

"**_Oh, no, it's nothing like that. This call is completely business-free. I would not have been rude enough to interrupt you in the middle of your vacation with a mere business call_**," Keigo waved off. He launched into the topic head-on. "**_You see, dear Uncle, we—that is, Yuushi and I—were… researching some curious information we got our hands on. I'm quite sure you're aware that we are currently in _****_Miami_****_, and right now we're sitting inside the Lent manor, waiting for dinner like obedient little children._**"

Keigo exchanged a glance with Yuushi, who snorted silently and rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"**_You _do_ get where I'm heading at, don't you, Uncle?_**" Keigo prompted. There was a pregnant pause, and then Keigo smiled again. "**_Ah, come now, Uncle, let's stop playing the denial game. You and I both know what I'm talking about. It's about Aunt Sayo, Uncle. Aunt Sayo, and your older brother Richard, and their _supposedly_ deceased son Yusuke, and Ryuuka-san, and a child born on _****_the 25th of August 1990_****_ named Kairou Shimizu Toushi_**."

There was a very silent pause, where neither Keigo nor Robert dared breathe a single sigh of breath.

"**_Now would you care to explain to us, Uncle? Exactly _what_ is this mess?_**"

* * *

"I told you already—_I don't know what you're talking about!_" 

Kaidoh released a large, exasperated sigh, and cast a burning glare at his boyfriend—and soon to be _ex-_boyfriend, with how things were going—who was standing in front him and adapting a somewhat defensive countenance. He pursed his lips in annoyance, resisting the urge to simply barrel out of the room and run away—to anywhere Inui was not. He knew that somewhere nearby, two pairs of eyes were watching them, waiting for some kind of outcome.

"Stop playing dumb, Sadaharu, it doesn't suit you at all," he grunted, narrowing his eyes.

Inui gave his own sigh, and pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. The rays of the now setting sun rebounded off the lenses, giving the data analyst an even more calculating, cold atmosphere. "Aren't you the one who's lacking in this relationship, Kaidoh? You were the one who initially stopped approaching. You were the one who distanced—to Momoshiro, at that."

Kaidoh's eyes blazed as he heard the only person who actually paid attention to him and was considerate enough to stay beside him as a friend being pulled into the fray. He knew that this was going too far. "Don't pull him into this."

"And you're admitting it?" Inui muttered silently, the sentence almost escaping Kaidoh under a distant rumbling thunder. It looked like it was going to rain.

"I have nothing to admit, Sadaharu, you and I both know that," Kaidoh snarled, the snake in him baring its fangs. He knew himself; he knew that his conscience was clean. He knew that he and Momoshiro had done _nothing_; they were friends, and that was all. "_You_ were the one I saw with Yanagi—"

"I've been telling you that _you saw it wrong_," Inui sighed with irritation, in an edgy and slightly louder voice. His eyes under the glinting eyeglasses were narrowed, for some reason, and Kaidoh had an inkling of what it was.

_Denial._

"Right. So now I'm lacking, dumb, _and_ blind," Kaidoh exasperatedly stated in a flat tone. He hissed in annoyance, bringing his lips together. "Then again I shouldn't be surprised that you can actually insult me this much within a few indirect words. You _are_ the genius between the two of us, after all. So why don't you do both of us a favor and _explain_ just _what_ is happening between us in this _'relationship'_?"

"Kaidoh—"

"You _draw away _from me, Sadaharu. For some… _obscure reason_ I just can't grasp, you _draw away._ Or maybe it's just me being my usual self, stupider than you are?" Kaidoh frowned. "Maybe it's something that only geniuses can understand? Maybe it's something that's not worth explaining to me, but something that _Yanagi_can understand—no, is _qualified_ to understand?"

"Kaidoh, you have to understand—Renji is a childhood friend of mine, and we've been with each other for so long that it's become second nature for both of us to stick together—"

Kaidoh snorted in disbelief, casting his eyes skyward as if calling to the heavens. "What I've seen is _more than sticking together_, Sadaharu. Is it because I can't compare to you at all times? Or is it because you just don't… want to be with me anymore? Because if that's it, just say so. Please. Let's spare the both of us some hurt."

Kaidoh waited, and waited, and waited, but Inui remained silent.

Alas, after ten full minutes of standing stock still waiting for the other's reply, Kaidoh gave up.

He knew it; he could see it in those bespectacled eyes he had grown to love and miss. "You know, you never _did_ once call me Kaoru."

_I've lost him._

* * *

Kevin pushed down the bus' window, letting the refreshing night sea breeze flood into the vehicle that was currently speeding down the seaside freeway. It was a fresh breath of air under the stuffy, muggy atmosphere pervading inside the interior of the bus—in more ways than one. 

He grumbled out words audibly, earning an elbow to his ribs from none other than his boyfriend, who, for some reason, seemed mildly incensed as well. "What?"

"It's rude to belittle other people's problems, Kevin," Toushi flatly stated as if reading from a disinteresting book. "So shut up."

"I was just wondering what crawled up everybody's fuckin' asses and died!!" he yelled in frustration, shattering the silence that had settled over the group once they all stepped into the bus, as well as the tension that had gathered over everyone's sitting forms.

"Well, you, for one, just _did_, peroxide head," snapped Ryoma waspishly from a nearby seat.

"No thanks, Ryoma, as much as I'd like to admit that your positively sinful little bod _is_ definitely fuckable, I like receiving more than giving," Kevin replied just as waspishly. "And I'm a natural blonde, idiot!"

Ryoma shuddered. "Eww, Kevin, too much info! And besides, you're, like, my _brother_, for tennis' sake…"

"I really don't think we should be discussing—_cough_—_acts of reproduction_—" ("We _can't_ reproduce, idiot!" "Ohoho, you say that now Ryoma." "Mom!!!") "—in front of Ryuuka-san and Nan-ji-chan and Rinko-oba-san," Keigo pointedly pointed out, casting raised eyebrows and sharp reprimanding glances at Ryoma and Kevin. Up front, Rinko and Nanjiroh both simply giggled while Ryuuka shook his head ruefully. The Atobe couple Yukiko and Miyagi had somewhere else to stop, and as such they took a separate vehicle.

Ryoma sniffed indignantly, huffing and crossing his arms. He turned away from Keigo, who was beside him. There were occasional snickers running through the group, and as usual it was Eiji who was starting it, but for once, neither Momoshiro nor Gakuto were joining in.

Keigo curiously noted this, momentarily forgetting his issues, but realizing that he was actually one of the people who had added to the restless atmosphere. He inwardly snorted to himself, turning his eyes to a still indignant and pouting Ryoma. Then he glanced over at Fuji, who was seated on the other side and about a row away, and Tezuka, who was seated about two rows directly behind Ryoma.

_Trouble in paradise—rewind, times two?_

He shook his head, nudging Yuushi and minutely raising an eyebrow. The other, in return, just as minutely returned a shake of the head in negation.

Keigo sighed.

The situation was problematic, but there was nothing they—_he_ could do, not until they arrived back at home and were rested fully. He did not want to dump everything on everyone tonight. They all needed to be reasonable—this was a _lot_ of revelations.

His gaze trailed on Ryoma and Fuji in alternation, contemplating silently. Should he pull out everything _now_, when the three were _once again_ on shaky grounds? What he wanted to tell them was an important thing, but the relationship was also important. He did _not_ want Fuji, who would be the main bearer of the impact, to lose focus and hurt Ryoma even more. He knew that the current disagreement was minor compared to their last one, but a disagreement was a disagreement nonetheless. The fact that they were not on good terms was there.

He sighed and reached a hand up, kneading his forehead in frustration. On his other side, Jiroh placed a comforting hand on his thigh, gently patting.

"It'll be alright, you'll see," the sleepyhead smiled lopsidedly, yawning wide and snuggling up to the said diva's chest, all bitterness lost at seeing his lover troubled. Keigo smiled fondly, letting him.

"Let's hope it will, Jiroh, let's hope it will," muttered Keigo, placing a soft kiss on the already snoozing Jiroh's forehead.

Beside them, he didn't see Ryoma stare at them with a somewhat wistful and longing smile on his face, as if he also wanted to crawl into someone's arms and snuggle into sleep.

* * *

As he silently trudged up the manor's front path towards the big oak double doors, Tezuka decided on one thing: he hated disagreements. 

He knew that right now, Ryoma was walking along with Atobe and Kevin behind them, while he could see that Fuji was walking with the other Seigaku players ahead of him.

He sighed in frustration.

_This is hopeless._

The last time they had a minor disagreement (which was turning out to be a very common happening between them the last few days), was when he had finally noticed it. There was always a pattern, and their disagreement always seemed to follow it, sans the first big one.

And he found that he was not at all pleased with this pattern.

"Caught in the middle, Tezuka?" Yukimura chuckled beside him.

Tezuka suppressed a jolt of surprise, instead opting to simply give a turn of the eye as acknowledgement to the other captain (even though he was pretty sure Yukimura would see through any pretense he tried to put up). He noticed that Yukimura was unusually free of his normal load (also known as the Rikkaidai Baby Kirihara Akaya). Tezuka assumed that Sanada was currently taking care of the said player.

"Aka-chan was quite insistent on staying with Gen-chan this evening, for some reason," Yukimura smiled silently, as if reading his train of thought. "He seems to be developing quite an attachment to Gen-chan, which is good. I always thought that they needed some more bonding. Goodness knows they've been arguing with each other more than enough already. And always catching me as the middleman too."

"So how do you sort it out?" voiced Tezuka as silently as Yukimura had spoken. The two had considerably slowed their pace, dropping behind the other groups.

"Oh, dear me, no," Yukimura chuckled breathily, raising both eyebrows. "No, it's not _me_ who sorts it out. I leave that part to them."

"…"

Tezuka moved silently with Yukimura, contemplating this response carefully. He felt as if he was turning around a chessboard and nitpicking every single scenario possible.

"…and what do you do during the time they have yet to reconcile?" Tezuka asked again.

"Why, ignore them, of course," Yukimura said, smiling a smile that was so eerily familiar to Fuji's that it made unconscious small shivers of cold shimmy down Tezuka's spine. There was a hint of seriousness in Yukimura's tone, however, that forced Tezuka to continue to listen. "It is not an easy feat to ignore someone you love deeply with your heart, but think of it as your sacrifice for their betterment, and for the relationship's betterment as well. It is necessary, at times, to hurt the ones you love to make them see exactly what they are losing. Am I not mistaken by saying that you have already experienced this under Ryoma's hand, never mind the fact that he did not directly intend the outcome to be what it was?"

Tezuka lowered his head and nodded, deep in thought.

"Then you must let him—_them_ see," Yukimura smiled. "Let them see. Teach them where they went wrong and they will learn to correct it."

There was a moment of silence between them as they ascended the few short steps to the towering front doors of the manor. Tezuka opened his mouth to reply. However, he was cut off by Nanjiroh, who began herding them inside forcefully like a flock of sheep and forcing them to bed.

"SLEEP NOW! TRAINING (and sex) LATER!" he yelled over their heads, making them subconsciously reply to his voice and scramble to follow his commands. By now, everybody knew not to contradict the Echizen patriarch; said patriarch was _very_ serious when it came to training (and sex).

"Ooh. The bed beckons," Yukimura said, smiling again and moving away with a small wave of a hand. "Goodnight, Tezuka-kun, and the best of luck to you."

Tezuka could only give a small, numb nod.

* * *

Ryoma frowned in annoyance. 

It seemed as if the world was set on annoying him that night. _Every_one was being stupid. His dad was being stupidly pushy about the training (but that was normal anyway, since he was born stupid), Keigo was being stupidly uptight and tightlipped about whatever was bothering him, Kevin was being stupidly grumpy because Toushi was stupidly grumpy, Tezuka was being stupidly scarce because of the mini-fight episode, and Fuji was being stupidly jealous over Keigo.

He grumbled under his breath about stupid idiots, their completely unnecessary existence on the face of the small, small world, and their seemingly inherent tendency to be unable to understand the difference between a _joke_ and a _fact_.

He threw a scathing glare towards Eiji the Loudmouth, who was the very root of the entire misunderstanding between him and Fuji (which in turn alienated Tezuka). The said redhead immediately ducked out of the glare's way and shot into the house, dashing up the stairs and into his and Oishi's room with inhuman speed.

The Seigaku redhead had made the mistake of mentioning the family dinner fiasco upon seeing Keigo and Ryoma's pictures under the willow tree that afternoon (courtesy of a very careless Ryuuka, of course), and very _un-_conveniently forgot that an already incensed Fuji was within hearing range. The migraine that had yet to abate was apparently bugging the tensai, but they were all required to be present for dinner, and as such, overhearing Eiji was unavoidable.

Fuji, being the vindictive bastard he was, insisted on seeing the video, and thus tortured Yanagi and Inui to procure a way for him to be able to watch the video feed from the Atobe Manor. Needless to say, he succeeded, and returned to the studio a seething, _very_ angry tensai.

Immediately bearing down on Ryoma, he gave no chance for the younger to explain. Thus, another one of Ryoma's temper tantrum was triggered, which, naturally, did nothing to help the situation. Instead, the situation was aggravated when both Fuji and Ryoma, irrational and angered, bore down on a flustered Tezuka (even if the captain _tried not_ to show it) and forced him to choose a side.

They were of course lucky that Tachibana, being the rational thinker he is, rushed everyone to safety, while Ryuuka risked the double nuclear bombs threatening explosion and cooled the situation temporarily. The three of them were separated from that incident on, and had never talked to each other since.

It was really nothing serious; just a jealous lover's spat. But still, it was taking its toll on them.

Ryoma sighed tiredly, rubbing his head. He had lost another one of his caps somewhere (but that was no problem, since he had a few dozen more in stock). He glanced at his sports watch, and it read 10:45 PM. They'd stayed up too late. It was such a tiring day; he just wanted to find Karupin and cuddle on a soft, bouncy bed with clean linen sheets and freshly laundered blankets.

Yes, soft beds, like Keigo's bed.

A sinister smirk crawled upon his face as he recalled another earlier incident, the memory triggered by the thought of Keigo's bed; a precious memory that somehow made his day despite his minor spat with Fuji.

"Ryoma, I don't like that expression on your face," muttered Kevin from beside him as they moved up the steps to the doors. As was instinctual to Ryoma, he moved towards either Kevin or Keigo when he was incensed or depressed and could not go to either Tezuka or Fuji.

"Nobody said you had to," grinned Ryoma. "Ooohh, you should've seen that Davinia bitch's face earlier. It was _sooo_ precious!" cooed Ryoma in triumph, an aura of mischievousness surrounding him.

Kevin's eyebrows quirked. "Davinia? Oh?"

Keigo scowled at Ryoma with a telltale tinted red at the tips of his ears. "Damn sadistic brat," he muttered only loud enough for them to hear and scampered—err, _strode swiftly_ ("Atobes do_ not_ scamper!") away from the gossiping teens.

Kevin turned, intrigued, from the escaping Keigo back to the snickering Ryoma. "Now, whatever made him run off like that is very much worth telling."

Ryoma's grin turned conspiratorial as he hurriedly pulled Kevin towards him (and in turn the blonde pulled a grumpy, silent Toushi with him). "You see, I went to Keigo's room after we—Fuji and I—had the argument…"

**_Flashback_**

_Ryoma__ charged into the room, throwing the doors wide open and slamming them loudly behind him. He swore he could feel the hinges rattling from the force. He grumbled loudly, raising his voice and yelling, "KEIGO!"_

_After a few moments of silence, Ryoma cursed. "Damnit, Keigo! Where the hell are you?!" he hissed, throwing open the doors to the bathing chambers. These were a little smaller than the Atobe Manor—this was only the Lent Manor, after all—but nevertheless, it was still fit for royalty; a room reserved only for the heir of the main family whenever they visited, IF they ever visited at all._

_Ryoma__ sighed. "Where is he?" he asked himself silently, standing stock still in the middle of the room. The bed was made, but Ryoma could faintly smell Jiroh's cologne lingering near it. The Hyotei player must have slept prior to descending the studio for dinner with the others._

_He heaved a resigned sigh, moving forward and stripping off his shirt. He inwardly thought that he might as well take a shower since he was here already and he was feeling sticky from the humidity. The time alone would serve its purpose in calming his ire down as well._

_The short shower was uneventful and silent, and Ryoma emerged from the bathing chambers into the adjacent "humble" closet (at least, compared to Keigo's main closet in the Atobe Manor). Shuffling through the clothes hung neatly by color and kind, he hummed silently. He was unclad, but he didn't mind. It wasn't like anybody would dare enter the rooms without permission (except for Keigo and Jiroh, but those two were exceptions)._

_However, he didn't know that he was sorely mistaken__. While he was trying on some of the silk robes he liked to wear to bed (he wanted to take a little nap while waiting for Keigo to return), the doors to the bedroom silently eased open to let a scantily clothed Davinia in._

_Ryoma__ contemplated between the blood red and the jade emerald short yukatas he was holding in each hand, shrugging and pulling on the blood red one. Hearing some clinking from the bedroom, he absentmindedly walked out of the closet as he fastened the yukata around himself._

_He was in the process of tying the knot as he started speaking without looking up. "You really should keep more of my normal clothes in your closet, Kei—" _

_Silence._

_He blinked at Davinia, who was sprawled all over the Victorian settee in what—Ryoma figured—she believed to be a… _seductive…_ pose._

_"…oh.__ You're not Keigo," he blankly—and apparently unnecessarily—stated._

_Silence._

_"_You!!_" snarled Davinia, the _supposedly _seductive face turning into a grimace of fury. "You _bitch!_ What are you doing here?! GUARDS!! SOMEBODY! Seize this woman!!"_

_And that was when comprehension dawned on Ryoma. (Yes, he tended to be a little slow after a hot shower with some of Keigo's hypnotizing scented bathing gels.)_

_"Heeeeh," Ryoma drew out, an evil smirk slowly stretching his lips. His eyes sparkled in apparent amusement as he finally tied the knot to his yukata securely and stood by the edge of the bed in front of Davinia, who had now scrambled up to her stiletto-clad feet. "I thought Keigo was your _cousin_. Last time I checked, he never was interested in incest, let alone sluts that seem to be… ah, __so_ eager_… to throw themselves at him."_

_There was a pause where Davinia seethed in anger._

_"Oh well," shrugged Ryoma, turning on his heel smoothly and heading for the bed. He raised one delicate leg over the said furniture, resting it over the cushiony surface and leaning over to climb on. All the while, he kept himself in check, making sure he was making a show of utter sexiness for the other girl to go green in jealousy over. "You're not _my_ problem."_

_And that was when things went utterly awry._

_Taking no notice that her sparse clothing were failing their purpose to cover what was to be covered, Davinia lunged for Ryoma aggressively. The stiletto heels clacked against the side of the settee as she struggled with her speed._

_"_YOU WHORE!!_" she screeched, grabbing with both hands at the end of Ryoma's robe. However, one of her heels chose that moment to crack under pressure—Ryoma liked to think it was because she was really getting fat—and she stumbled down, dragging with her the robe._

_Ryoma__ spun around in slight surprise as the robe was tugged and ripped. As the momentum ended, however, he stumbled on his back over the bed. He grunted in part annoyance and part amusement, raising his upper body with his elbows. He was fully aware that the robe had ripped at the seams—he mentally made a note to notify Keigo about the weakness of the product (or maybe it was just Davinia?)—and that he was _fully_ exposed, as only scraps of the robe remained clinging onto him._

_Davinia__, who had stumbled on her knees to the floor, was gaping openly, her mouth opening and closing in silence like a suffocating fish._

_"Y-You… You…" she stuttered, her eyes flitting over his exposed form and his manhood, a slow blush started to creep up on her face._

_Ryoma__ frowned in annoyance, totally for show. "That was my favorite yukata, you know."_

_All the while, Davinia was still gaping and struggling to regain her bearings as she pushed herself up. However, Keigo chose that time to charge into the room, incensed and harried about something obscure. The diva went straight for the bed, but stopped short._

_"Ryoma—what the—" he staggered for a moment. Then he rushed forth and tugged on one of the folded blankets, throwing it over Ryoma's naked form. He furiously growled and whirled towards Davinia, taking measured steps and settling himself as a defensive barrier between the girl and Ryoma. _

_Ryoma__, knowing that the next few minutes would be most definitely amusing, hauled himself upright in a sitting position and rested the side of his face against Keigo's hip, an arm looping around the said diva's frame loosely. Keigo's entire body was stiff with apprehension, but melted slightly at Ryoma's touch._

_"Who gave you permission to enter my chambers without my consent?" he hissed very silently, his anger coursing like fire through his veins. "Who _ordered_ you to _defile_ Ryoma?!"_

_At this, Ryoma couldn't resist choking with his laughter, but he hid it well by burying his face against Keigo's hip. _Honestly, Keigo… 'defiled'? Who uses that word in this century?

_However, Davinia was still too immersed in her shock to fully comprehend what Keigo was asking her, and to properly reply in comprehensible human language. All she seemed to bother herself with right that moment was gaping like the rear end of a rooster taking a copious dump. _

_But that didn't mean Ryoma was satisfied._

_No._

_Since childhood, he had been taught to make the best of each situation he got himself in. And thus, that is what he set out to do._

_The younger teen smirked and rubbed his cheek against the side of Keigo's hip. A devilish smile was painted on his face as she watched her face changing color and displaying the entire spectrum. "Back to our earlier conversation," Ryoma spoke to her, calling her attention. Her wild eyes were now trained on him. "Even _if_ Keigo _was_ interested in incest, I don't think he would do you."_

_Keigo's__ brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but Ryoma squeezed his thigh to silence him. _

_"Because you see—" Ryoma smirked seductively, slipping his hand that had squeezed Keigo's thigh upwards and into the leather pants. He reached to where Keigo's manhood was and gently fondled it. Keigo couldn't help but suppress a teeny moan that escaped at Ryoma's ministrations, hands clenched at sides and jaw muscles tightening. He did nothing to stop what the other was doing, even if he knew that he was going hard in front of his cousin. "—you wouldn't be able to get him—" Ryoma continued, purring as he licked his lips _very_ slowly. He squeezed Keigo's cock, and it twitched violently. "—_up_."_

_Ryoma__ let out a cat-got-the-canary smile. _

_Keigo's__ eyes rolled in pleasure. "Fuck," he groaned uncharacteristically, his hips jerking involuntarily against Ryoma's hand. "If you don't stop doing that, _I'm_ going to rape _you _instead__."_

_"__Like you almost did last time?" purred Ryoma sensually. _

_"Not on hard tiles today, darling," Keigo rasped at a rather insistent fondle. "This time, it'll be on top of Chinese silk you love so much."_

_"Oooh, kinky."_

_At that, Davinia let out a loud, violent, high-pitched, and mortified squeak, and darted out through the doors behind her like a horde of bulls were chasing after her. _

_As soon as she was out of the room, Ryoma smirked smugly, and pried himself away from Keigo. "Mada mada dane."_

_He shed the blanket that was covered over him, walking in the nude towards the closet to once again search for clothes. "Clothes, clothes," he muttered to himself. "Keigo, you should really keep more of my normal clothes in your closet. You know I like pilfering stuff from your room. And yeah, that silk yukata was weak for Chinese silk, you know. Maybe you should change your dealer. Or maybe it was just her being too inhumanely strong—or fat? Ah well."_

_It was only after a full five minutes of silence only interrupted by Ryoma's occasional humming that Keigo regained human comprehension. He cursed his way to the bathing chambers, exhausting an extensive swear vocabulary his regulars—not to mention the rest of his housemates—would have been in awe of (read: stunned by)._

_"Damn sadistic brat."_

_He needed a _really_ cold shower. _

**_End of Flashback_**

* * *

Ryoma found himself lonely that night. 

It was startlingly cold for a Miami summer. He desperately needed some warmth in his small bed, but the only one who was providing him with it was his faithful little Karupin. Karupin; the cat who lived without worries, the cat who was his best friend, the cat who was his comfort in times of need, the cat whom he cried with, the cat who comforted him without asking questions… the loyal cat who would stay with the master no matter what.

He gently threaded his fingers through his cat's fur, relishing the blissful purr that was released in turn. He smiled and nuzzled the cat. "Karupiiiiiiin."

"Mreow… rrrrrr…"

Ryoma smiled. What a peculiarly understanding cat.

"Thank you, Karupin," he murmured into the darkness. He curled into himself and around Karupin, tugging the pillow down as he made a curious crescent-shaped dent in the middle of the bed. "It's cold, but you're here. And you're warm…"

"Mewr," Karupin mewled silently.

Ryoma felt the cat sinking into a light doze within the cocoon of warmth they'd formed with their mismatched bodies. He smiled faintly, remembering the first time he'd gotten Karupin. The cat had been a parting gift from Keigo. The young diva had insisted upon getting him a "substitute companion" that would be able to at least tone down his tantrums. Needless to say, Karupin, the Cure for Ryoma Tantrums, was effective. Though the years, he'd formed a special kind of bond with his faithful feline. He loved the cat as much as he loved tennis—and seeing just exactly how much he loved tennis, that was saying something.

He sighed, softly rising from the bed. He reached up and mussed his hair up.

He just couldn't sleep.

Tugging the blankets to half-cover the dozing cat, he stood and headed for the door. He picked up a long-sleeved shirt along the way, and started padding silently down the silent halls. He did not know where he was going; he let his feet carry him. Almost always, when he was in a mood like this, his feet were more trustworthy than his wandering mind. At least his feet instinctively knew the right way.

Soon enough, he found himself in front of parents' room.

He sighed.

"For goodness' sake, Feet," Ryoma groaned aloud, looking down and addressing his feet. "I'm not a seven-year-old any longer. I can't very well sleep beside my parents!"

But Feet didn't reply.

An amused chortle knocked him out of his semi-mental argument with Feet. A silent voice from inside the room called out, "Talking to your feet now, Ryoma? I didn't know you were that far gone."

Ryoma scowled venomously, violently kicking the door open and elbowing his way inside. "Oyaji—**_what the hell?!_****_ Damnit!_**" cursed Ryoma very loudly, his voice ringing out to the hallway.

"SHH! Ryoma, people are sleeping, you know!" reprimanded Nanjiroh, tugging on the blanket to cover himself. "Tch, it's only skin."

"Urgh. Ugh. By gods," Ryoma groaned under his breath, nudging the door close behind him. He didn't want anyone else knowing that his father slept in the nude by checking on his noisiness. "I so did not need that image. Urgh."

"Come on, it's not like you haven't seen naked people in your entire life!" snorted Nanjiroh, taking a small swig of his beer that was sitting on the bedside table. "You used to bathe with Keigo when you were little; I'm pretty sure you've bathed in an onsen (1) with your teammates; I have enough proof to know that you've had sex with both kid captain and Mr. Genius!"

Ryoma hissed in annoyance, stomping his way towards the bed. He nudged his father over to one side with his foot, taking for himself the remaining vacant side. "Can't sleep," he grunted as soon as he was resting against the headboard like Nanjiroh was.

The elder patriarch snorted. "Figures. You'd never go to me unless it's something as serious as sleep deprivation."

"Oh, shut up," Ryoma snapped crabbily.

There was a comfortable silence in which both of them sat side by side on the bed. There was a soft rustle of cloth as Ryoma gently moved his leg against the side of the bed where it was dangling off of. Liquid swished inside the can of beer Nanjiroh was drinking off of.

"Where's okaa-san?" asked Ryoma silently.

Nanjiroh chortled. "She's with Yukiko. Those two deserve some girl time," he said silently. There was a pregnant pause in which Ryoma felt that there were things waiting to be said. "Are you afraid, Ryoma?"

Another pause.

"Being afraid is normal," Nanjiroh said. "Being afraid is part of being human, you know. And it doesn't demean your masculinity to admit it. You're still a man irregardless of whether you admit it or not. You still have your balls, after all, unless you cut them off or something..."

"Eurgh," Ryoma recoiled. "Oyaji, what is with you tonight? You seem to be abnormally fascinated with grossing me out of my skin!"

Nanjiroh rolled his eyes. "It's not me who's insensitive, idiot, it's _you_ who's oversensitive," snapped the elder man. His expression turned serious. "Talk to them, Ryoma. This is a painfully small fight compared to that last fight you had. This is the first of many small fights. You have to overcome these, you know? Just imagine an easy opponent—too easy—after a very hard match. That's how it feels."

"Annoying, but frightening at the same time," muttered Ryoma.

Nanjiroh nodded. "And after you've made up, make sure to install a camera the next time you—oww!" Nanjiroh yelped, recoiling from Ryoma's kicking feet.

Ryoma grumbled something incoherent under his breath, but curled up against his father all the same. "I'll try tomorrow. Just help me sleep."

Nanjiroh pulled a mock grumble, and then slowly sank into silence. That night, he slept with a fond smile painted on his face, a fond smile that was reserved only for his Ryoma, his little boy, whom he knew would soon leave him for a new life.

He knew, however, that no matter where Ryoma went, the boy would always be his little boy. The little prince, who'd thought the bathroom was too small and instead treated the entire house as the potty by pooping and peeing all over the place. His charming little boy, who'd tugged on his hair and screamed him into buying ice cream and a tennis racket toy. His very own brave little warrior, who had curled into bed with him during stormy nights, seeking solace and comfort.

His little boy, who was growing up to be a fine young man…

Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on his already dozing son's forehead.

"Love you, little prince."

* * *

The next morning, Ryoma woke considerably easily and cheerfully. He felt light and weightless, for some reason he couldn't explain. He knew, however, that it was because he'd slept beside his father the previous night. Ever since childhood, he'd found his father's presence comforting at night, again, for some reason he couldn't explain. 

However, he found that no matter how light and breezy he felt, the situation was the same. Tezuka was ignoring both of them—probably trying to show that he was choosing neither side—and Fuji was glaring hotly at him and Keigo alternately. Kevin was being a nagger, and Toushi was still trying to get back at his father (for the picture he took while he and Kevin were kissing). Gakuto was being an asshole to anyone who bothered breaching his personal sulking bubble. Momoshiro and Kaidoh seemed to have gravitated to each other instinctively over the few days, and now seemed as if they were joined at the hip. Inui was tensioned, but he kept pretending he was keeping his cool, hanging out with Yanagi, yet throwing glances towards Kaidoh.

Keigo was being even worse.

The diva thought it was fit for everyone else to suffer in his wake, and somehow pushed them into sorting several grey-hair-inducing stacks of business papers into folders and categories according to his instruction. Meanwhile, he'd disappeared off to somewhere with his loyal tag-along, Yuushi, doing only God knows what and leaving behind a horde of angry, tired, and harassed players to fill in for his supposed work.

Nanjiroh, however, seemed to have leeched off some sadistic genes from either Fuji or Yukimura, and thought it would be amusing to see them suffer even more under training. And As such, the Echizen patriarch did not let off on the daily drills even though he knew that Keigo left quite a considerable amount of papers to be sorted in the office.

Surely enough, by dinnertime, all of them were worked up to boiling point.

"Gimme the salt," grunted Eiji grumpily, bothering with neither politeness nor formality.

Oishi obliged his partner silently. Even the mother hen, the one of the few who normally kept cool even under dire circumstances, was also apparently not in such good of a mood tonight. There was a tense silence draped over the entire table, and not one of them was feeling up to the task of breaking it.

Well, except for one.

"I want Ponta!" snapped Ryoma irascibly to the maid, scowling quite attractively, especially to the right eyes. Across from him, Fuji was very silently and very carefully demolishing his food, while Tezuka remained still and silent, having already finished. "Hurry up!"

Ryoma wondered if it was just him, or the world was being far too slow for his standards. _Everything_ and _everyone_—they all seemed slow. Tennis balls, racket swings, ordered drinks—name it. He sighed. The day _had_ started phenomenally well, but beginnings didn't dictate endings. And add to that the fact that he hadn't managed even just a sneak conversation to rearrange the little spat between him and Fuji—his day was a disaster.

"Your drink, young master," the maid bowed, handing him a tall, chilled glass of Ponta.

"Finally," he grumbled in annoyance, plucking away the fancy little umbrella that decorated his drink. He licked his lips and sighed. He really didn't like Ponta taken out of the can. It tasted quite different. He shrugged in resigned disinterest, sipping silently on his drink.

Soon enough, all of them were dispersing from the table, one by one disappearing upstairs or somewhere in the gardens to either make-out or talk (more commonly the former). Ryoma was just about to head up to his room and crash, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Seishounen," Nanjiroh's playful voice floated into his ear.

He groaned.

"Noooo, oyaji, not today, please?" Ryoma said with pleading eyes. "I really can't bear any more today. Please?"

"What're you talking about?" Nanjiroh voiced in mock innocence. Then chortled in surrender at Ryoma's resulting whine. "No, no, I won't accost you to annoy you, seishounen. I was just wondering if you could do me a favor and rearrange these for me?" his father asked, holding up a bundle of receipts and bills. "The usual home bills and all that crap. You do it so much better than I can."

"Can't mom do it?" sighed Ryoma.

"She's busy with some stuff tonight," Nanjiroh shrugged. "Preparing for a case tomorrow, I think. She says it's a pretty heavy one."

Ryoma leveled the bundle with a critical stare for a few silent moments, and then released a surrendering sigh. "Okay, okay," Ryoma nodded, grabbing the bundle and accepting the thank-you cuff on the head from his father. He headed for the stairs. "Give me an hour or so."

"Nah, I'm going out with Miyagi and Ryuuka for some men's quality time," grinned Nanjiroh from the bottom of the stairs as Ryoma went up. "Just leave them by your bedside table or something—I'll get them."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Ryoma mumbled in annoyance.

* * *

"**_…and why did you not deem it necessary for us to know, Uncle?_**" Keigo hissed in annoyance. "**_I still can't understand why you'd hide it this much—no—…_**" 

Yuushi watched silently as Keigo paced agitatedly in front of the fire. This was probably the eighth time that day they'd gone through the similar argument. They'd listened to Robert's story, and had researched further, dug deeper, occasionally dropping calls on some other contacts mentioned in the files such as the gynecologists and the midwives at Seattle Children's during Sayo's delivery. However, they'd dropped even more frequent calls on Robert, who was the only one who seemed to know the entire truth. Some things, after all, needed some explanations.

"**_You'll be arriving tomorrow, then?_**" Keigo verified. There was a pause. "**_Good. We'll be waiting for you, and we'll be waiting eagerly, Uncle. You have a lot of talking to do once you arrive—I will not postpone it for even just a single second—so you had better ready your entire story for everyone to hear._**"

There was another pause, in which Yuushi smiled faintly at the idea of Keigo scolding his Uncle instead of the other way around.

"**_Yes, everyone, Uncle_**," Keigo hissed sharply. "**_Don't you think they deserve to know? …oh, don't give me that. Their lives will be perfectly safe. They aren't infants any longer. They _need_ to know._**"

There was a very long pause this time, in which Yuushi guessed that Robert was either arguing against Keigo, or informing him of something else. It seemed it was the former, since Keigo soon turned around and cast his eyes skyward in exasperation.

"**_Well, let us save the stories for later, Uncle_**," Keigo tiredly sighed. "**_I'm pretty sure there will be plenty of time for them. Yes. Yes. Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then, Uncle Robert. Of course. A pleasant night to you. Of course. À bientôt."_**

Keigo finally removed the phone from his ear. He threw the phone to Yuushi, who caught it deftly. He sank into one of the couches beside the fire, frowning and kneading his forehead. "This is one hell of a scandal. Too big of an issue. This must stay within only within the inner familly. Such a large scale matter—it even includes _cartels_, for God's sake—…" he broke off.

Yuushi gently patted Keigo's thigh, and then sighed and proceeded to make the preparations for Robert's arrival the next day, as well as thinking of ways to bury the matter deeper inside the family. He sent messages to Miyagi and Yukiko, and to Richard. He prepared letters that would inform—or rather, _mis_inform—the outer reaches of the family, should the matter ever leak outside. He recoded and doubled the security over the files they'd viewed, erasing all their tracks and manipulating the old system codes to his will.

He was not called Hyotei's genius for nothing.

"Should everything proceed as planned, we have nothing to worry about," Yuushi muttered silently, fingers flitting over the keyboard at a dizzying speed. "However, we all know that things rarely go as planned. And as such, precautions are necessary."

* * *

Nanjiroh walked back into the mansion, slightly tipsy from alcohol. He hummed a happy tune, padding silently along the quiet corridors. Midnight moonlight bathed the hallways, giving the place a mysterious silvery blue glow. 

"_Watashi__ wa sagashiteru… Bijin na REEDII wo sagashiteru…_ (2)" he sang under his breath, doing a little twirl in midair as he hopped.

Soon, he stopped in front of Ryoma's door. The light was still on inside the room; a yellow glow spilled from the door's crack. He knocked three times out of pure courtesy, and let himself into the room. He found his son lying down, receipts and bills littering his bed. He appeared to have dozed off in the middle of doing them. He couldn't blame his son; training _was_ harsh, after all.

"Ryoma-chan," he nudged slightly, poking his son with his new magazine. He eyed the paper scattered all over the bed; he was almost finished, it seems. He felt a brush of fur against his legs, and found an agitated Karupin slinking around his legs. "Hey, Karupin. What's up?"

"Mreooooow!" Karupin yowled loudly.

"Oww!" Nanjiroh mock recoiled. "You hurt my feelings! I was just asking! Tetchy!"

"Mreoww! Mreoooooow!" the cat yowled again.

Nanjiroh scowled and shooed the cat away. "Fine, be that way. I was only being nice," he huffed indignantly. He turned back to his still dozing son. "Oi, Ryoma, wakey wakey. Daddy's home, and he needs you to get out of your tennis clothes and into your jammies."

There was no reply.

Nanjiroh sighed. He knew that when Ryoma slept, he _really_ slept.

As in like a log.

He grinned diabolically and reared back, raising his hands and flexing his fingers, getting ready to tickle the young man awake. He paused for a few moments, and then with a great girlish squeal, dived forward and attacked with his squiggling fingers.

What met his fingers wasn't warm flesh.

He stopped and frowned.

Reaching up to the younger Echizen's forehead, he sought warmth. Warmth. There was no warmth. He slipped his hands underneath the Fila shirt, but it was the same. Cold, ice cold.

_There is something wrong._

Nanjiroh gently removed the blanket that had been half-covering his son's face, and turned it towards the light. His eyes widened to find a very pale, very dead face staring back at him.

"Ryoma!!" he yelped frantically, searching instinctively for a pulse at the neck, feeling for even just a faint gust of breath.

He waited.

There was—

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

**(1)** **onsen** – Japanese hot springs. The type Seigaku-tachi bathed in during their short training camp before their match against Rikkaidai, anime-verse.  
**(2) Watashi wa sagashiteru, bijin na REEDII wo sagashiteru…** — This is adapted from a little song from another anime (just the melody). I changed a few words, though. Kudos to those who can guess. XDXD 

I just launched Persuasion's second chapter. Links to my LiveJournal are on my profile.

**Kiasidira**** Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 08.15.07  
First Revision Version:_ _08.15.07_


	33. Step Thirty Two: Heir Part I

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

Err, right. So Tria and Tola and I just were rambling over one of my doodle LJ posts (Naa-chan, don't look), and we were arguing over the double meanings of bigi (chortle) and milk (snigger) and gigi (giggle). I'll be putting up this small drabble entitled **Bigi** on my LJ (links on profile), so those who are interested on whatever we were rambling about and exactly what bigi means for us (snigger), please go ahead and read when I post it up. XDXD Everyone's welcome, of course. It's not f-locked; completely public.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimers apply.

**REMINDER: **If you kill me, One Step won't get finished. So be gentle with the death threats! X.X

* * *

**Step Thirty-Two: Heir**  
_(Unrevised Version)_

* * *

—none.

On the verge of panic, Nanjiroh quailed.

He recoiled from the cold, cold skin of his son, vainly trying to force his eyes away from the delicate face he was gazing with slowly growing horror at. The normally rosy lips were pale and almost blue; the exotic cat-like golden eyes were lidded close; the hair fell limp across those sharp eyebrows—everything spoke stillness.

Everything spoke _death_.

Nanjiroh rebelled against the thought with a violent jerk of his arm, as if it was trying to push something invisible away, something that was clouding over him oppressively. He scrambled over to his son, and very gently righted the young teen's position. Struggling to recall his CPR lessons, he reached under the shirt and mapped out the ribs, searching for the right position.

Before long, he was pumping strength desperately into his arms as he tried reawakening even a single beat or a single breath within his son's body. He performed three full cycles, but nothing happened.

Panic once again threatened to ride him over like a tidal wave.

He growled in refusal, threw it off, and stood, leaning down and scooping the light form of his son into his arms. He would not give his son up. This was his _son;_ the blood of his blood, the flesh of his flesh. This was his _son,_ the one he'd already nearly lost once before, long, long ago. He would not give up.

He moved towards the door and raised his voice.

"KEIGO!" he roared over the silence of the night. "KEIGO, GET UP AND GET YOUR ASS IN HERE! RINKO! RYOGA! KEVIN! SOMEBODY GET THE DOCTORS!"

The door to his left slammed open and Ryoga rushed out in alarm, half-dressed and with mussed hair. "Oyaji, what's—_Ryoma_!!"

"Go get the van—_hurry! He's not breathing!"_ Nanjiroh yelled, rushing down the hallways bathed in calm streams of moonlight. They seemed standing icons of irony for Nanjiroh; how could anything be calm when his son was _dying_? Ahead of him, Ryoga sprinted down the stairs, yelling for the maids and butlers.

The manor came to life. Lights flickered on and flooded the corridors, and a flurry of activity echoed from downstairs. Doors slammed open, and Keigo came striding out of his quarters, followed closely by Kevin. The blonde looked like he just fell from bed, but that couldn't be helped. Tezuka soon came sprinting down the corridors, along with Fuji.

"What happened? What's the problem?" Tezuka asked breathlessly.

But all of them froze as they saw Nanjiroh approaching rapidly with a lifeless Ryoma in his arms. Fuji dropped the blanket he'd draped around his shoulders in shock. He could see the paleness of the lips he just kissed earlier that evening even in the pale lighting and distance that separated them. Tezuka stiffened in apprehension, as if wanting to spring into action, but at the same time simply wanting to wilt in distress.

Kevin yelped in alarm and rushed downstairs, remedying everyone else's absent-mindedness. Following close to his heels was a harassed yet worried Toushi.

Keigo took a rattling breath. "Ryoma…?" he motionlessly mouthed in shock.

Next to him stopped a distressed pair of mothers, and a hassled Miyagi. "My baby, oh god. My baby," Rinko let out a choked sob, reaching out for her son. There was a jolt inside of her; this scene was all too familiar.

"HURRY! THE VAN, DAMNIT!" roared Nanjiroh. "HE IS _NOT BREATHING!_"

This seemed to snap out of their reverie.

Immediately, Nanjiroh headed straight for the main doors. Fuji was following closely behind him in staggering steps, as was Tezuka. Keigo started yelling hysterically to the maids, who, in turn, were hysterically trying to attend to his commands. Everything was in a flurry; they were all confused.

"Call the hospital! Notify our family doctors! What the hell are you all standing there for?! Where the fuck is the driver?! The _car_, you idiots; the _car!_" Keigo screamed over the din, abandoning all pretenses. The others were starting to wake; Yukimura was rushing after them, followed by Sanada and Tachibana. "Tachibana, Sanada, Yukimura, stay put and take charge! Yuushi, with me!" Keigo barked sharply.

"…is there a fire…?" Eiji blearily voiced, walking out of his room clutching a teddy bear, shuffling in fluffy bear slippers, and sporting bear-printed pajamas. He scrubbed on one eye and yawned.

Meanwhile, Fuji and Tezuka were conversing in strained, hurried tones as they followed after Nanjiroh. The coach was sprinting down the spacious welcome hall and to the front doors, where a honking van was waiting impatiently. They could see Ryoga's faint outline inside, and Kevin had thrown the door wide open for them. Toushi was arranging the seats inside.

"Was there a pulse, sensei?" asked Fuji in overwhelming worry and dread.

"No."

Nanjiroh's voice cracked.

Soon enough, they were jostling their way into the van, careful not to knock Ryoma over in any way. Yuushi, being the more level-headed of all of them at that moment, slid into the passenger seat, while the rest of them stuffed themselves in the back. Kevin shoved the door close, and banged on it. "Drive, Ryoga! We'll follow after you!"

The van sped out into the night.

Kevin hissed sharply and darted back into the house. He was not surprised when he came face to face with now wide awake and alert players bubbling with apprehension and confusion. He approached Yukimura, who had a worried expression on his face, and spoke in low tones. He explained as much as he knew about the matter, while Toushi turned and darted upstairs.

"Kevin, wait there, I'll get the car keys!" he called over his shoulder.

"Get my jersey while you're at it!" yelled back Kevin. The fair-haired teen resisted the urge to bite his lips in worry, crossing his arms and tapping his foot against the marble floors rhythmically in an attempt to quell the unsettled feeling brewing in his gut. Never in his entire life had he felt such profound dreading. He found it suddenly hard to breathe.

Soon enough, Toushi was darting back down the stairs. He shoved a jersey into Kevin's arms, at the same time tugging the blonde towards the doors. The two of them raced through open doors and lit gardens towards the main garage where Kevin's Audi TT was parked. Toushi leapt into the driver's seat.

"I'll drive, you sit," snapped Toushi sharply, jamming the keys in and revving the car. Kevin voiced no complaints, knowing that it was safer to have Toushi drive since he was in no condition to concentrate. The car swerved out of the parkway and into the darkness as Toushi flattened the pedal; there was no time to lose.

_There was no time to lose._

* * *

Had the situation not been desperately dire, Yuushi would've found it funny.

He stood, shuffling his feet in weariness, in one corner, doing the one thing he was innately good at: observing. He knew that he was currently not observing his code of conduct like one was supposed to when in public, but well, he wasn't the only one breaking that code right that moment, so why bother? If there was anything he knew by heart, it was how to go with the flow. Having that drilled to the side of one's head since childhood really made it stick.

He eyed Kevin, who was pacing by one corner—back and forth, back and forth—as if he was a GIF image cut from a movie and set in a replay loop. Behind him was an unsettled Toushi, watching him in faint amusement. However, Toushi was calm—probably the calmest of all of them. He simply sat there, waiting; he was unsettled—it was shown very clearly on his face and in the back of his eyes—but he simply sat there. No tapping, no pacing, no impatient hisses. Nothing.

Yuushi wished the other occupants of the room were like him.

His eyes turned to Fuji, who was sitting rigid-backed on one of those plastic hospital chairs by the wall. He sat right beside the vending machine, which was whirring actively, just like the brain inside that brown-haired head. Yuushi knew from that fierce look in the Seigaku tensai's eyes that whoever did this would suffer, and suffer very very terribly. He wished Fuji would stop glaring at the opposite wall—everybody had cleared the space for fear of directly encountering the cold, scathing glare—for it only added to the overall tension permeating the entire room.

Tezuka was, in a manner of speaking, better off than Fuji. He was silently conversing with Ryoga, who was on edge. Calm and collected he was, but Yuushi could see that he was on the verge of losing grip. Conversation was probably keeping his mind away from Ryoma's condition, but they were just lucky he had control. Goodness knew what would happen if he joined Fuji and Keigo.

_Ah, Keigo._

Yuushi's eyes rolled skywards in an expression of exasperation.

Keigo was—well, for the lack of a better word—_bemoaning_ his fate to the gods. Which gods he was referring to, Yuushi had not an inkling. As far as he knew, Keigo had no standing religious faith. However, it seemed the situation called for extremes.

He retuned his ears to Keigo's voice—he'd blocked out the wailing and yowling half an hour into the predicament—and resisted the urge to guffaw as Keigo started quoting from old literature.

"…_If after every tempest come such calm, may the winds blow till they have waken'd death!_" Keigo wailed, pacing and emphasizing his yet uninterrupted monologue with wide elegant swipes of his arms.

They'd earlier been separated from Ryoma as the nurses took him to the Emergency Room and started executing basic procedures on him; Nanjiroh had been asked a few brief questions, but that was all that the Echizen patriarch managed to do—he had collapsed a few minutes later into a chair and had stayed there with his head in his hands for the rest of the meager fifteen minutes they'd been inside the waiting room.

"What will I do—Ryoma—he's not dead! I won't accept it! He can't be—_no_—I—they—who—"

However, all of them abruptly turned to the door when it swung open silently, and a doctor decked in the customary white coat emerged from the room. He was quite old, but not that much; he had a receding hairline, graying hair, and the other common symptoms of aging. However, he looked much respectable with his framed eyeglasses, black stethoscope, and that immaculate air of intelligence he carried with him.

The only thing that was somehow off in the image was the haunted look in his eyes, as if someone had died.

* * *

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_First Publication Version: 05 Sept 07  
First Revision Version: 05 Sept 07_


	34. Step Thirty Two: Heir Part II

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

ROFLROFLROFL. HOMG. YOU GUYS SHOULD'VE SEEN YOU _REACTIONS_ TO THAT LAST CHAPTER!! LAUGHS ARSE OFF Btw, that last chapter raked in the highest reviews and ratings since chapter 10. Keep it coming, people. XDXD And no, we didn't do that because we wanted the reviews; we did that because we wanted to _see your reactions._ (Translation: torture you.)

Btw, don't kill me. It was Tri's idea. XD I'm just the… err, accomplice. XDXD

Tria: o LIAR!!! She's just pointing fingers. . ; she was the one who said she wanted to end it there and I'm only the one that gave her the 'GO.' XP (haven't used bleu for a while wheeeee AUI – annotating under influence XDXD wheeeeeee)

Kia: ……….Tria, I told you not to annotate while you were as good as DRUNK! For tennis' sake…. (kneads forehead)

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Audi. Sadly. (snicker)

AND SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO KIA-CHAN! (September 20th)

* * *

**Step Thirty-Two: Heir (Part II)**  
_(Revised Version)_

* * *

Gazing upon the gaggle of noisily chattering players gathered inside the large lounge room, Yukimura sighed in frustration. 

This was really not going the way he wanted it to go.

"Sanada," he muttered silently, and Sanada immediately turned and bellowed an overpowering 'Silence!' over the crowd, with the unspoken promise of Sanada-slaps for anyone who disobeyed.

As expected, every single one of them shut up.

"Silence," Sanada repeated in a loud but calmer voice. "How can you expect us to explain the situation when all of you are chattering into each other's ears?!"

Tachibana crossed his arms behind Sanada, leveling the group with that glare that was communal when it came to captains, the glare that all had them scampering to behave and obey. It was a wonder how all captains seemed to have that commanding air about them—Mizuki as an exception, of course; _commanding_ was a wrong word to describe him—but right now was not the time to ponder on that matter.

"All of you," Yukimura began. "Listen up. We received a short message from Oshitari-san a few minutes ago. He'd explained everything; Echizen-kun was poisoned. The extent of the damage is not known yet, and the doctors are doing everything they can, but apparently, Echizen-sensei found him not breathing and without a pulse inside his room."

Alarmed expressions flitted over numerous faces within the crowd. Worried yelps and gaps from some of them—especially from those who were in Seigaku with Ryoma—overrode the running whispers.

Yukimura continued in a deadened, silent voice. No one dared interrupt. "I want to know if anyone—_anyone_—saw Echizen-kun after dinner last night."

Momoshiro raised his hand. "I walked him to his room," he said, worry shining in his eyes. "I was asking him if he wanted to play some video games over at mine and mamushi's room, but he said Nanjiroh-sensei asked him to arrange some house bills and stuff."

"Was he feeling ill at that time, or did he look somehow off?" Tachibana clarified.

"No, he wasn't," Momoshiro shook his head in negation. "I know him; we were close. I'd at least know if there's something bothering him, but no. He was behaving normally."

There was a bit of silence disrupted only by occasional murmurs here and there.

"Anyone else?" prompted Sanada.

No one else raised their hands.

"Does anyone know if he went out after dinner?" asked Tachibana. He turned to the maids. "Perhaps to get some snack? To walk outside?"

"No, I didn't see him go out," interrupted Shishido. "Choutarou and I were chatting by the Cross Room; we'd notice if he went out to get snacks or have a walk. Unless he jumped off the window, of course."

"So there's no suspect?" Kamio pointed out. "We don't even know how he got poisoned—wait. Won't the maids know?"

All of them immediately turned towards the flustered maids, who tittered nervously at the gazes directed at them. The butler, Katsura-san, moved forth and bowed respectfully. "If you'll allow me, young masters, I could call on the entire staff to be present for questioning."

"Please," Oishi nodded, fidgeting uneasily in his seat. "And please notify us when Tezuka and the others call back."

"Of course, young master," bowed Katsura-san, ambling hastily towards the small group of maids and dishing hushed orders. The maids scuffled away in haste. "They will be down in a few minutes."

* * *

Tezuka sat, resting the back of his head against the cool concrete wall. He reached up, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. 

"_Ryoma!!"_

"_Syuusuke, Syuusuke, they have to take him—"_

_He chanced a glance into the room Ryoma was currently being wheeled into, and he blanched. The nurses ripped his shirt apart and pulled up the defibrillator. He could hear them counting, and one was spreading the gel over the flat surface of the defibrillator, and—_

"_No response."_

_His heart ached. He didn't know how he managed to bear seeing this. Ryoma's back arched sharply as the electricity coursed through his body, trying to shock his heart into life. _

"_No response. Heart rate: zero." _

"_No, Ryoma!" _

_Flailing, struggling arms hit his chest as he pulled Fuji against him and held him close. He forced Fuji's face into his neck, drawing him away from the scene, trying his best to protect him from the pain. Soon enough, Fuji calmed down and simply remained limp in his arms, heaving heavily shaking breaths. There were no tears—tears weren't enough._

_Ryoma was dead._

"_Syuusuke. Calm down," he whispered softly into the other's ear. "Calm down." He could hear anguished cries from behind him—it had to be Kevin; Toushi was trying to calm him down as well—and he could see a frozen Nanjiroh standing stock still by the door; it was as if he were nothing more than a statue, as if he were not the mourning father he was supposed to be._

"_H-How can you—" Fuji choked into his neck unevenly. The first sob of the night came out. "H-How—K-Kunimitsu—he's _d-d—"

_He stuttered to a halt, unable to continue any further, unable to bring himself to even utter the dreadful word._

Sitting there, looking pale under the pale hallway fluorescent lights, he tried his best to isolate himself from the current situation. He was alone; he was all alone. There was no one else.

"_**Sir, are you alright**_?" asked a gentle voice from his right.

He looked up slowly, his blurred vision registering a blue scrub suit on a female's form. It was a nurse. "_**Yes, yes, I'm fine, I just… want to rest for a while.**_"

"_**Of course**_," nodded the nurse. And then, out of nowhere, she handed him a cup of hot chocolate. She smiled, and Tezuka was cozily reminded of a mother, or of a caring older sister. "_**Chocolate always helps, sir. It's not just for kids.**_"

Tezuka paused for one second, and then gave her a brief smile of gratitude. _**"Thank you."**_

"_**It's no problem, sir**_," she laughed as she straightened up. "_**Your companions are currently talking to the doctor. They are arranging the necessary procedures. When you feel okay enough to join them, they will be in Lobby 4, just down the hallway and to the right.**_"

Tezuka nodded silently in response, holding the steaming mug of hot chocolate with both his hands. He stared blearily down at the brown liquid.

"_Kuni-bu!" chirped a bright voice from behind him._

_Turning in slight surprise, his face evened out into a smile as he caught sight of a scantily dressed Ryoma standing behind him. The younger player was wearing another one of those oversized shirts he scavenged from Tezuka's closet, as well as an adorable little smile. He had his arms behind his back, holding something carefully as he tipped back and forth on the balls of his feet._

"_Ryoma," he smiled, putting his book down and slipping the bookmark between the pages. He gently set it down on the patio table and turned to the younger boy. "Why are you wearing that again?"_

_Ryoma pouted. "You're gonna scold me again," he mournfully muttered. Then he whined. "It's too uncomfortable! I don't want to wear anything else! And besides, we're not going anywhere today; we'll be staying here at the manor for the whole day anyway since it's raining!" _

_Tezuka sighed in defeat, knowing that he had no chance of winning this particular argument; they'd done it millions of times, and not a single one instance did he ever win. "Alright, alright," he muttered, and beckoned Ryoma to him. "What's that behind your back?"_

_Ryoma grinned gleefully at this. He leapt forward and presented a steaming mug. "Hot chocolate with cinnamon! I made it for you."_

_Tezuka looked down at the brown liquid in surprise. How Ryoma knew it was his favorite, he didn't know. "You made it?" he asked dubiously. He knew that Ryoma was a disaster in the kitchen; he almost didn't know the difference between a spoon and a fork. "Is the snack bar downstairs alright?"_

_Ryoma scowled, and grumpily placed the mug of hot chocolate on the table before Tezuka. He huffed, spun on his feet, and stomped his way to the bed, body slamming the poor piece of furniture and burrowing his head underneath one of the humongous body pillows Keigo had especially provided for him._

_He remained motionless on the bed, until he heard a chuckle from the patio. "It's good."_

_And a hint of a smile graced his face._

Tezukashook his head. He knew thinking about that kind of thing wouldn't help the situation; it would only worsen it. He struggled to find some means to stop himself from recalling all those memories he had stored inside his head. It seemed as if everything he saw, everything he felt, everything he heard—it would all come back down to him.

To Ryoma.

He sighed heavily, lifting the mug to his lips. He frowned at the taste.

_Not good enough._

* * *

Robert frowned. 

_What in the world is happening here? Why isn't Keigo answering my calls?_

He walked out of the plane, lifting his stroller suitcase as he descended the metal staircase aligned against the open hatch of his private plane. One of the men clad in suits approached him, and he nodded to them smoothly, handing them his baggage. They directed him to a waiting limousine, and he slid in with ease.

He pulled his phone out of its leather case, which was strapped to his belt. He held it to his ear after speed dialing Yukiko. "_**Yukiko?**_" he gruffly spoke.

"_**Robert! Why are you calling so early in the morning? I thought you were on vacation!**_" the voice from the other line came. His eyes narrowed. Yukiko was on edge.

The limousine started moving. "_**I'm currently on my way to the Main Manor, Yukiko. I just arrived from Paris.**_"

"…_**to the Main Manor? What—why? I thought you were—**_"

"_**You mean you don't know?**_" he asked in a hushed voice, hitting the mute button by the limousine's window. He didn't want the driver hearing this.

"_**Didn't know what?! Robert, what is going on?! Ryoma's been poisoned—it's pure chaos in here—Keigo's unsettled—for goodness' sake, it's **_**five in the morning!**_"_

"_**Keigo knows, Yukiko,**_" Robert cut her off worriedly. "_**Keigo and Yuushi both know. I don't know if they've told anyone else, but they know. Everything.**_"

"…_**what are you talking about?**_"

"_**Sayo!**_" Robert hissed sharply. "_**They know who Toushi is, who Ryuuka is, who Syuusuke is! They know all of it! And what do you mean Ryoma's been poisoned?!**_"

Yukiko struggled on the other line, completely at a loss on what to say. "_**He—oh—never mind! Meet me at the West Office in fifteen minutes, Robert—I'll pass it on my way from the Manor. Miyagi's out running errands to try and sort out this mess. I'm headed for the hospital; I'm with Rinko. Let's just… we'll talk about everything later. I'll see you in a bit.**_"

* * *

Robert sighed in aggravation as he slid out of the limousine and slipped into the white Audi A6 parked in front of the West Office. The limousine he was in slid out of the driveway and headed for the Main Manor to deposit his bags. He only brought his essentials with him. 

As he walked towards the white car, he saw that neither Yukiko nor Rinko were up for niceties. The two seemed to have been through virtual hell. There was neither life nor warmth in Rinko's eyes; they were dead and cold. Yukiko was a bit lighter and less frayed on the edges, but she too had the same atmosphere about her, as if someone had just died.

And so, Robert asked. (And tactlessly too, at that.)

"Did someone just die?" he asked gruffly as he got into the back seat.

Yukiko hissed sharply at him, and he wisely shut his mouth. "We're going to the hospital," Yukiko muttered silently, pulling out of the 10-minute parking slot and heading for the hospital. Miami was starting to stir; the sun was rising. "We'll meet Keigo and Nanjiroh there. Ryoma's been poisoned."

Robert opened his mouth to ask, but Yukiko raised an arm to silence him. Robert grumbled and closed his mouth. "We know nothing, Robert. That's why we're going there; to _find out_ what happened."

All the while, Rinko said nothing. The other woman simply stared out of the car blankly, with those deadened, cold eyes. Robert cursed inwardly. This was not how things were supposed to happen. What was happening to the world? Why were the plans being totally messed up? How did Keigo and Yuushi find out?

He sighed and gave himself a slap over the back of the head.

Who did he think he was referring to? Keigo and Yuushi were smart young men—_brilliant_, in fact—perfect for inheriting the companies. Of _course_ they'd figure it out.

He sighed again, putting his head in his hands. He should've known it would turn out this way. He should have somehow prepared for the day when everyone would find out. Now he was trapped in the middle, without any way out. And he could also consider this the end of his (almost nonexistent) relationship to his brother, Richard. This would wreck whatever he'd manage to salvage between the two of them; the revelation of his betrayal, of everything he'd done for Sayo, of everything he'd taken away from his own brother.

Then he started berating himself.

This was really not the time to be reflecting on his own mistakes and submerging himself into a guilt trip.

Soon enough, they arrived at the hospital. Yukiko quickly found parking space—no one was up yet, so the roads and parking lots were not crowded all that much—and the three of them strode forward to the looming pristine white building. He could hear the clacking of Rinko's shoes quickening as they approached the swinging double doors; he knew that the woman was eager to know his son's condition.

Yukiko didn't even need to check with the desk; she simply strode into the threshold and headed for Lobby 4, where she knew the others were staying.

As soon as they entered the room, Rinko broke down.

"Nanjiroh!" she cried, flying into Nanjiroh's arms. The coach simply held her silently, not saying a single word as she sobbed her heart out.

The atmosphere inside the room was morose.

Keigo was standing off by the window, looking out blankly, while Yuushi was leaning against the wall beside him. He recognized Kevin, and—he gaped—Toushi; the two of them were leaning against each other tiredly, as if they'd just undergone an intense psychological torture session and they'd barely survived with their minds intact. There was one young man he didn't recognize, but he _did_ recognize the pale brown hair nestled within the unnamed young man's arms—_Syuusuke._

A rush of breath left his lungs.

_No wonder they figured it out._

"Well? What happened?" demanded Yukiko, placing a hand on her hip. Robert knew that pose. He knew that when that pose was on, there was no stopping the Atobe matriarch.

He found himself a comfortable seat near Syuusuke—who remained motionless within the bespectacled young man's arms—and settled in to listen to another story as Yuushi slowly unpeeled himself from the wall to face Yukiko, taking on himself the duty to tell the story since he was the only one who was capable enough to do so.

* * *

"_No response. Heart rate: zero." _

"_No!__ Ryoma!" _

_Yuushi struggled to calm Keigo, who was flailing about just as violently as Fuji was. He saw, from the corner of his eyes, Toushi and Tezuka doing the same thing with their own charges. Kevin was giving wailing, anguished cries as attempts of resuscitation failed and failed again. He saw Fuji crumple within Tezuka's embrace, and he saw the Seigaku captain struggle to maintain hold on his own emotions, whispering calming words into Fuji's unheeding ears._

_The doors to the Emergency Room swung close just as Ryoma was given a third shock from the defibrillator. If anything, he was thankful that none of them would have to see __the doctors__ do whatever they had to do to save Ryoma. Seeing the teen lifeless and limp was more than enough of a trauma. He dreaded the extremes to which Keigo's protectiveness would escalate to after this dilemma they had, and he pitied the poor pet for being Keigo's favorite doting toy._

_He watched as Keigo went straight for the wall and leaned his forehead against the cool concrete. One nurse approached him and started asking questions regarding the patient's case, and Tezuka helped along, since no one else was capable of answering. Nanjiroh was reduced to a helpless statue now sitting motionless __by __the door._

_The rest of the unbearable thirty minutes they had to wait he spent observing. He stood by one corner, taking care of the procedures with the nurses until someone else regained coherency to do so in his stead. He watched Keigo pace hopelessly in front of the room's door, while Kevin was echoing his steps by one corner. _

_They had rushed Ryoma in at roughly four in the morning, and now it was already nearing 4:30. He wouldn't dare show it, but he himself was starting to get unsettled._

_And that was when the doors swung open once more._

_He was quite old, but not that much; he had a receding hairline, graying hair, and the other common symptoms of aging. However, he looked __quite __respectable with his framed eyeglasses, black stethoscope, and that immaculate air of intelligence__ that__ he carried with him._

_The only thing that was somehow off in the image was the haunted look in his eyes, as if someone had died._

_He looked up as Keigo approached expectantly. "Are you the relatives?"_

"_Yes, yes, we are," Keigo hurriedly nodded. There was fear and apprehension in his eyes. "How… how is it?"_

"…_I'm sorry, but we did everything we could have done," the doctor solemnly said, bowing his head as if offering a __deep __apology. Right at that moment, Yuushi couldn't help but wonder what possessed these people to take up such a job that required them to be the bearer of death, and to be subject to the blame from a deceased patient's family, however irrational it may be._

_And he couldn't help but admire them, also. He knew that if it was him, he wouldn't have been able to tell the truth, especially if that look on Keigo's face was on the face of every single expectant parent or sibling or lover or son he would face._

_Keigo charged into the Emergency Room._

"_KEIGO!" he yelled after his friend, catching Keigo's arm and pulling him back._

"_NO! ORE-SAMA __WILL __NOT ACCEPT THIS!" screamed Keigo. He was positively waking up the entire block (or three). "RYOMA IS NOT DEAD! RYOMA CAN'T BE DEAD!"_

_Yuushi's heart would have wrenched, had Keigo not been making an entire fool of himself. "Keigo, look—"_

_"NO! O' ALL YOU HOSTS OF HEAVEN!'_ (1)_ ORE-SAMA WILL PERSONALLY WRENCH YOU DOWN FROM YOUR HITCHING POSTS IF NEED BE TO RIGHT THIS WRONG! IF ORE-SAMA NEEDS TO SUBSTITUTE FOR RYOMA'S LIFE, __**GIVE ORE-SAMA A VICTIM**__!" __He made a lunge for the nearest bloody scalpel as if to emphasize his point._

"_Keigo!! Mind yourself!" snapped Yuushi, trying to calm the thrashing, flailing Keigo. "Keigo! Look—"_

"_ORE-SAMA WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS! ORE-SAMA _DEMANDS_ ORE-SAMA'S RYOMA BACK!!" he screeched. He was done with pretenses. He swung his arms out and hit one of the nurses up under the chin, and kicked Yuushi's knee sharply with his heel. The nurse knocked backwards into the doctor they'd just been talking to, who was trying to figure out what in the world was happening. Yuushi's knees buckled slightly and he growled, promising to himself that he'd bruise Keigo's knee later as well._

_Unnoticed, Fuji and Tezuka slipped past them towards the bed by the corner._

"_ORE-SAMA __WILL NOT A__CCEPT THIS, FOR ORE-SAMA'S WORD IS ULTIMATE! __**ORE-SAMA WILL NOT ALLOW IT!**__" Keigo continued to screech his head off like a banshee giving birth. Yuushi placed a hand against his forehead. "ORE-SAMA DOES NOT BELIEVE THIS—ALL OF YOU ARE A BUNCH OF TRYING HARD, SECOND-RATE—"_

_Yuushi groaned, thanking whatever gods Keigo were damning that the other nurses and doctors didn't understand the Japanese gibberish Keigo was babbling._

"—_COPYCATS! GIVE ME BACK MY RYOMAAAA!"_

"_**Goddammit, Monkey, shut the hell up!**_" _roared a voice from the bed._

"_SEE?!? YOU ALL ARE GODDAMN COPYCATS! ORE-SAMA CAN STILL HEAR RYOMA'S VOICE, BECAUSE RYOMA'S NOT—"_

_Silence._

"…_dead? R-Ryoma?" he repeated._

_The entire Emergency Room, including the neighboring deceased patient's family, was deathly silent. Even the machines seemed to stop working to make way for Keigo's four in the morning epiphany._

"_RYOMA!" screamed Keigo, shoving another nurse aside—the poor guy's nose rammed into the wall and broke—and throwing himself over his beloved Ryoma._

"_Oww," groaned Ryoma weakly, coughing as he rasped. His voice was faint, but there was a heartbeat. There was warmth, there was breath; there was _life._ "Goddamned Monkey can't shut up," he grumbled. "Why is it that every time I'm hospitalized, you execute a stage play that features you and your fucking dulcet tones that grate on my ears?"_

_Keigo blankly stared at Ryoma, and then blurted out, "Why aren't you stupid?"_

_Silence._

"_Huh?"_

"_Your neurons die after a certain period of time without oxygen," Keigo stated, as if it was the most normal thing to say to someone you'd thought was dead the first time you talk to them again. "So why aren't you stupid?"_

* * *

"So why are you all… mourning?" Robert chuckled openly, still half-gaping as Yuushi recalled Keigo's little episode. The Atobe heir never really failed to surprise him every single time. "Nobody died, right?" 

"Well, if you don't count that nurse Keigo rammed into the wall, sure, no one died," deadpanned Yuushi.

"He did not die and I did not…'_ram'_ into him, as you so inaptly phrased," Keigo sniffed indignantly, pouting like an offended child. "Besides, it was the nose's fault for being in the way of the wall."

"…are you _sure_ you didn't hit your head on a wall too, Keigo?" Kevin muttered from his corner incredulously.

"Never mind him," Yuushi waved dismissively. "He's always like that anyways. It's probably just aggravated by acute post-psychological trauma aftershock."

Robert didn't know whether he should gape openly at the immaturity Keigo was showing, or to simply dissolve into a puddle of laughter. As such, he simply dismissed this issue and moved on to the next. Just like those math teachers say, when assaulted with too difficult a problem, move on to the next one and simply go back to the previous later to maximize time.

"You haven't answered my question yet," Robert said flatly. "Why are you all mourning?"

"Ryoma was put into a medicine-induced coma to pull out the rest of the poison that might have spread to his internal organs through the lymphatic vessels, Uncle Robert," Fuji relayed silently, speaking for the first time since they'd taken Ryoma into the ICU. "The doctors say that they'd managed to pull out quite a lot, so there's a possibility that none of it managed to damage much, but…"

Kevin's face crumpled as Fuji trailed off. Toushi picked up for Fuji, continuing softly, "…the poison might have damaged some tissue in the neighboring torso muscles. If that did happen, he would have a really hard time to recover fast enough for the tournaments—no, actually, depending on which muscles are damaged, he might even be permanently disabled, never able to play tennis ever again."

Deathly silence permeated the room after this statement.

They all knew how precious tennis was to Ryoma; they shared the same passion, after all. Losing tennis would be like dying for the young man. He'd known nothing _but_ tennis his entire life. Tennis _was_ his life.

Nanjiroh's eyes were dark and unreadable as he held a horrified Rinko. Out of all of them, he was probably the one experiencing the most profound pain. As a father and an idol for Ryoma, he'd molded the boy's future for tennis. He'd taught his son—he _gave_ his son the one single thing he had in this superficial world. He really had nothing else to give to the boy; he had money, but what good would that do? Fame would fade away after time, and it wouldn't help his son any better than money would. He wasn't all that smart; that was Rinko's area.

Tennis was really the only thing he could give as an inheritance to Ryoma. Seeing it taken away from his son forcefully by something like this…

"He'll pull through," Tezuka firmly stated. "I know he will."

The same fervor burning inside Ryoma's eyes whenever he saw Tezuka had somehow transported itself into Tezuka's eyes instead.

* * *

Soon enough, they had to start vacating the hospital's fourth lobby. It was already eight in the morning; Ryoma's condition had been stabilized, and he was currently sleeping peacefully under the influence of a light dose of lithium. The doctors said they'd pulled out everything they could; the rest was now up to Ryoma. 

Fuji rushed to Ryoma's bedside and grabbed the limp hand. He smiled. It was limp, but warm. As if mentally willing the poison to leave Ryoma's body alone on its own accord, Fuji sat down and gazed at Ryoma's face with a steady, hard stare. He promised on his love for Ryoma that he'd find whoever did this and make sure that whoever it was, he or she would experience the worst terror they could in their entire life. (And he made sure to exclude leaving them whole in his mental promise. He really didn't want to break any promises to Ryoma, even though they were uttered without him knowing them.)

The doctor standing by the door was speaking in calm and reassuring tones, but the voice didn't really reach him.

"It was a slow-acting poison that he most probably ingested hours prior to when you found him—around dinnertime, I'd wager," the doctor explained silently. "I'm not surprised you thought he was dead; this particular poison very slowly lowers heartbeat—you wouldn't be able to sense it using normal physical means if it has dropped low enough. However, when you'd arrived here, his heart was already receding into tachycardia—that is, it wasn't beating properly anymore; it was just having spasms instead of solid beats."

Yuushi and Nanjiroh conversed with the doctor for a few more minutes, and then the doctor left them to themselves, bidding them a good day. A hand landed on Fuji's shoulder gently. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"He's going to be fine, isn't he?" Fuji murmured silently, pressing his lips against the now warm palm he was holding.

"He's strong, Syuusuke," Tezuka murmured back, however unnecessary. They both knew this, but they both needed reassurance. Somehow, saying the words pushed a little bit more certainty into the statement.

"Even strong ones fall," Fuji smiled gently. He didn't say anything further than that; he didn't need to. Tezuka squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and started to settle down beside him.

"I suggest you start getting ready to leave, Fuji," Yuushi said from behind them silently.

Fuji didn't move an inch from his spot, while Tezuka merely leveled a questioning gaze—bordering on a glare—at Yuushi. Ryoma almost died; couldn't they be granted some time with him?

"Fuji," called Keigo from the hallway. The Atobe heir seemed to have recovered completely from his prior hysteria, and no trace of the earlier scandal was visible on his now cold, stony countenance. Tezuka did a double-take. Keigo still seemed to be worked up about something. "You'll want to do what Yuushi says."

"And who are you to tell us what to do?" Fuji challenged in a frigid tone. His eyes narrowed, but he had yet to move from his spot.

"Trust me, Fuji, you'll want to hear this," Keigo insisted, matching Fuji's retort with his own steely tone. His eyebrows knotted together. "Mother and Rinko-oba-san will stay with Ryoma. Nan-ji-chan, you'll have to come with us too. This is really important."

Fuji turned to level a scalding glare on Keigo, but the glare faltered slightly at the look of complete sincerity and grim determination on the other's face. The seriousness with which he spoke darkened his eyes considerably. It seemed the issue really _was_ quite weighty if Keigo was being like this.

Tezuka reluctantly released his hold on Fuji's shoulder. "Syuusuke," he prompted the tensia. Fuji was looking at Ryoma with longing, but he sighed and stood up anyway. Placing a small kiss on the sleeping teen's forehead, he moved after Atobe. "I'll take care of him. He'll still be here when you come back later," Tezuka promised. Fuji simply nodded blankly as they exited the room and closed the door behind them, leaving an unsettled Yukiko and a quite curious Rinko with a sleeping Ryoma.

As soon as they were out of the hospital, Fuji turned sharply and bore down on Keigo. "_Atobe Keigo_. For _your_ wellbeing _and_ mine, this had _better_ be worth leaving Ryoma behind," he hissed into Keigo's face lividly.

Keigo simply closed his eyes and accepted the threat gracefully, heading towards the waiting limousine. He knew how much he was asking of Fuji by telling him that he had to leave Ryoma while the young man was in this state.

But it had to be done.

"You won't be disappointed, Fuji. In fact, this might just be enough to wipe Ryoma from your mind even just for a full five minutes."

* * *

When they arrived at the manor, Keigo had immediately silenced all questions with a sharp bark. He waved them all aside and made straight for his study, the rest of the group he'd gathered from the hospital hot on his heels. Apparently, the matter he needed to discuss was very urgent. As they passed Ryuuka, Robert snatched out a hand and tugged the other man with him, silencing all questions with a meaningful look. 

"How's Ryoma?" Oishi called after Fuji, who replied with a silent 'fine'. The rest of the players were left with befuddled but somehow relieved looks behind them as the group moved out of the hall and into the hallway that would lead to Keigo's secure and soundproof study.

Kevin gripped Toushi's arm as they walked. He had a feeling that this somehow involved his boyfriend, given that Ryuuka—he knew that Ryuuka was Toushi's father—was also coming with them to the office. He wondered why the Atobe head of clan was not present, but waved it off. Of course Miyagi had other business-related problems to deal with. Today was just another ordinary working day, after all.

However, as he moved into the office, he did a double-take. Miyagi was already seated by Keigo's table, waiting quite impatiently for them. The patriarch looked like he knew something about what was to be discussed, yet raised an eyebrow as he saw Robert file in. He stood and moved forward, opening his arms and catching Robert in an embrace.

"And what pulls you out of your hole in Paris?" Miyagi asked jokingly.

"Ah, well, your son has quite the knack for pulling Parisian moles out of their holes," shrugged Robert. "He says he has some things he wants to talk about which concern all of us."

"Yes, yes, I do," Keigo's voice overrode the room. He slammed the door shut, and there was a near-silent click as the lock engaged. With a few well-practiced taps on the security pad by the door, all the cameras shut down, as well as all security precautions placed on the room. "Please turn off all phones; we don't want this escaping when we're not ready."

"Honestly, Keigo, what could be so important for me to—""

Keigo cut his father off, "Trust me, father, this is _very_ important." A single serious look from Keigo, and Miyagi caved in. He hated it when Keigo was in his dominant mood; the heir allowed no one to stand in his way. Not even those above him. And while this was a good trait in foresight, it could also become a weakness an opponent can exploit.

"So, then, tell us what you pulled Robert out of his hidey hole in Paris for, Keigo," Miyagi demanded as he turned off his phone and flipped it shut. Around him, phones beeped as they shut down one by one.

When Keigo had ascertained everybody had turned off their phones, his full-force glare bore down on Robert. "We'll start there then. _Paris_."

Robert's eyes tightened.

"Isn't it curious that both Toushi and Fuji know you quite intimately, Uncle Robert?" Keigo started, his eyes narrowing as he started to cross-analyze the situation he was slowly unfolding. He felt like he was the writer and this was his scene; he felt as if he was a conductor and this was his melody. He was pulling the strings; it was the best and highest delight. "Fuji, who grew up in a completely ordinary Japanese family—granted, he _was_ quite segregated from normal children because of his gifts; nevertheless, it was still an ordinary Japanese background. He was just one of the smart ones." Keigo turned towards Toushi. "And then there's Toushi; very well-exposed due to having to grow up all over the world with his father, who is a world-class award-winning photographer _whom you _just_ happened to know!_"

Ryuuka blanched. _This conversation is bad._

"What are you getting at, Atobe?" Fuji hissed. "Ryoma is in critical condition right now—I don't have the time for dilly dally—"

"If you go now, Fuji, you will never know who you really are," Keigo stated in a dead tone, leveling a flat gaze on Fuji's blazing eyes. "You will never know who your real mother and father are; you will never know how you came to be a 'Fuji' and not a 'Lent'. You will never know who your _real_ blood relatives are; who your _real_ younger brother is."

Fuji's eyes widened, along with Kevin's and Toushi's. "What are you saying…?"

"If you want to know, then stay put and _listen_," Keigo snapped sharply. He turned back to Robert. "Let's do this the easier way," he said, pausing for a bit and bowing his head, as if thinking of what to say. "Uncle Robert. I know that you—along with a few more people who may or may not know about how the entire thing connects—kept this guarded secret for _sixteen years_ for a reason. It must be a good one to convince an honest man like you to lie like this. But now that the secret is out, I want you to tell the truth."

Robert frowned, dipping his head low.

"Uncle Robert, tell me: did Aunt Sayo get pregnant somewhere between 1985 and 1986 with her first child—that is, Yusuke?" Keigo asked slowly and carefully, trying to make sure that everyone was understanding what he was saying.

Robert closed his eyes tightly.

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, she did. She was pregnant with Lent-Shimizu Yusuke—her and Richard's first born—and she gave birth to Yusuke on the 29th of February 1986. That would make Yusuke 21 years old today."

"Did she take good care of him?"

"Yes, she did," Robert answered solemnly. His tone was telling of conflicting feelings; of relief that he was able to relieve himself of the burden he's been carrying, and of worry of what would happen next. "She loved the child very much. They both did—her and Richard. At least, for the first four-and-a-half years."

"Explain," Keigo demanded. This part he was eager to hear.

Robert sighed heavily, sinking into the chair nearby. He leaned against the backrest and took a deep, steadying breath. "He was a very quiet child. Yusuke was very quiet; very smart, yes—we could see he was going to be nothing short of a genius when he grew up, but he was very introverted and very unsociable, except to a few select people—one of them being Sayo. At first, we only saw it as normal; Sayo had an introverted streak about her as well, see. So we attributed it to that, and let it go.

"But Richard didn't see it that way," he frowned. "Richard was being judgmental, and at the same time, he was being a good father; he was worried for his son. He wanted to know if there was something wrong, because it _looked_ like something was definitely wrong. So he brought Yusuke to a famous children's psychiatrist. The child was four then—he was a tiny child, absolutely adorable, and frighteningly smart. He could talk in straight sentences and write very legibly by that age. He could even perform some mathematics.

"The psychiatrist saw nothing essentially wrong with him at first," Robert continued, fiddling with the mantelpiece covering the table before him. "He was smart, albeit a bit shy; that was common in children. But that was until one day, when Yusuke's winds all of a sudden changed drastically. It was as if he was a completely different person; I remember Richard saying that his eyes were rather different that day. Yusuke had turned vicious and terribly aggressive; he started bullying some of the kids in his daycare, while he was under observation of the psychiatrist.

"Of course, if you'd view it in a wider perspective, the other kids were bullying him first, so he had the right to fight back in self-defense. However, _'fighting back'_ isn't Yusuke! He was all about retreating and going to his own corner and resuming his work; he _never_ fought back! So this was where the psychiatrist's interest was piqued. The focus shifted, and soon enough, Yusuke was diagnosed with chronic bipolar disorder," Robert finished with a sigh. "This devastated Richard—his first born, chronically _ill_! But he—Richard—noticed that Sayo wasn't surprised. In all truth, Sayo _also_ has chronic bipolar disorder; Yusuke simply inherited it."

"And knowing this, Richard got mad," Ryuuka muttered silently from where he was sitting, mouth covered by his interlaced fingers he was holding up to his chin. "Richard started abusing Sayo and Yusuke—he claims he never really meant any of it, but I know better. After only three months, Sayo couldn't bear any more of it, and took Yusuke to Seattle, where I accompanied them. There, she settled for an entire year. There, she got pregnant with Toushi."

Toushi chose that time to take a terribly shuddering breath, biting his lip. This was a huge admission for Ryuuka, who had never even once mentioned knowing Sayo as intimately as he did. No one even _suspected_ of an affair; and to think that Toushi was the fruit of an affair…

"I don't think I have to explain how love works here," Ryuuka chuckled wryly. "I'm pretty sure all of us don't need love workshops. And I'm no good a teacher anyway; I'm a bumbling idiot who made many mistakes. But one thing I know is that I don't regret—_we_ don't regret—having had Toushi come into our lives." He reached over to Toushi, who was sitting beside him, and cuffed the back of the teen's head affectionately. "He's a good kid; a loved child, like Sayo used to say."

Toushi smiled a faint smile at his father, still shaken from the outright revelation. He'd always known it, but somehow, it was different hearing it directly from his father's lips.

"The night Toushi was born—August 25th—was a very eventful night," Robert continued explaining. "I can't even begin to put into words how I almost crumpled under the pressure that night. But somehow, I knew that I had to go through with it." He sipped a bit of water from the glass that was on the table. "You see, Richard knew that Sayo was pregnant. He thought it was _his_—Richard's—and not Ryuuka's. He _does_ visit Sayo in Seattle—"

"Not the nicest of nights, those ones," muttered Ryuuka darkly, his hands clenching in anger.

"—and so, there _were_ chances of her getting pregnant with Richard's child," Robert picked up as if Ryuuka hadn't spoken at all. "But extensive testing showed that the child was Ryuuka's. We all wanted to make sure, so we could plan the steps; Richard would _kill_ the child if it was not his. In actuality, Sayo wasn't due until the tenth of October, but the added pressure had forced her into labor."

"Added pressure of what?" Keigo sharply asked.

"Added pressure of having her first born—Yusuke—kidnapped," Robert corrected himself. "Yusuke had gone missing early that morning; we were all in panic. Sayo had called Richard about it, and so Richard started 'searching' as well. The day went on; no sign of Yusuke. Soon enough, Sayo gave into labor, and we took her to the hospital, with promises of finding Yusuke. Around five in the early evening, Richard called and informed us that Yusuke had been kidnapped; it did nothing but worsen Sayo's condition.

"While Sayo was giving birth—Ryuuka kept her company instead of Richard—I asked Richard if there was any way we could steal Yusuke back. Richard kept evading my questions—I attributed it to his being panicked that time. But then I heard a faint humming tune through the phone in the background, a soft humming that Richard probably didn't pay attention to in his act," Robert said. "The tune was Pachelbel's Canon in D. It was a tune Yusuke was attached to and loved to hum. That was when it all clicked; it was a trap. Richard had planned it from the beginning; he wanted to get rid of Yusuke since a new child was on the way—a 'healthier' child, more fit to inherit and lead. He still thought Toushi was _his_ and not Ryuuka's.

"So I left Yukiko with Ryuuka and Sayo, and I rushed to my car. Richard controlled a part of a cartel here in Miami that has branches all over the United State. But I have some… contacts within his network, and with quite a large bribe, they agreed to go behind Richard's back and steal Yusuke away. They'd told me about the plan; they would leave Yusuke inside and detonate the bomb planted inside the wharf they were in. So it went as planned; when Richard set off to 'pretend' he was searching, they stole Yusuke away and detonated the bomb on time. They met me and gave me Yusuke; I immediately hid him in my car. He was a smart kid, and he followed all my instructions.

"I rushed back to the hospital—I was too late, though. Richard had told Sayo that Yusuke had died, and with severe depression, she died on her birthing bed," Robert stopped here. There was a long silence, in which they all were thoughtful. "And then after that, it was a blur of escape. I took Ryuuka and the baby—Toushi—and Yusuke. I brought them to the airport, and sent them to Paris. Yukiko knew of this, and so did Miyagi. All of this. When Richard came back, we told him the child and the mother had died due to birth complications."

"And so you now have Yusuke, Toushi, and Ryuuka in Paris," Keigo nodded. "And it so happens that Fuji Ichiro, and long time friend of yours, and his _entire_ family, were still staying in Paris, correct?"

"No," Fuji immediately said in horror. "No… what are you saying?"

Toushi was frozen stiff in his seat, while Ryuuka had his face buried in his hands. Robert's head was bowed, and he showed no indication of a willingness to speak further. Keigo granted him that bit of reprise; he'd spoken enough for tonight.

Keigo looked Fuji straight in the eye, and said with pure honesty, "You, Fuji Syuusuke, were formerly known as Lent-Shimizu Yusuke. You were brought to Paris at the age of five, and when you were given to the Fuji family for adoption, they changed your name and age on your birth certificate. You were then known as Fuji Syuusuke, second child to the Fuji family, age two."

"…t-that's impossible," Fuji stuttered, backing away and running right against the wall behind him. How he wish those warm arms of Tezuka would wrap around him again. "…I'm… I can't be…"

"But you are," Keigo solemnly said. "You are my first-degree cousin, legal heir to the Lent family. You are Toushi's older half-brother. Robert is your uncle in law; Richard is your _father_. Sayo is your mother. And, by the way, you aren't eighteen years old. Not really. You're twenty-one."

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Revised Edition)_

* * *

**(1)** Ripped from _Shakespeare's "Hamlet", Scene One, Act Five_

**IMPORTANT NOTICE:**  
For those who want to see **the "crack" versions of 32.1 and 32.2 of OS, go to my profile. It's under the "One Step" area; just scroll down**. XDXD I promise you'll enjoy reading the crackier versions, complete with our comments, the colors, highlights, cross-outs, first drafts, jokes, and what-not. XDXD **Also, there are custom-made family trees for you. Links are posted in my profile page. Go there and go see if you're confused about the Atobe family relations.**

--;; I am SO gonna be late tomorrow again. Ledamns. RAWR!! AND THAT'S CHEMISTRY TOMORROW!!! YOU READERS' FAULTS! IT'S 02.05 IN THE DAMNED MORNING AND I STILL AM NOT IN BED!! (9.18)

**Edit:** And again, it is 1.50 AM and I am still not in bed. (9.19) --;; See how hard I work for you guys???

**Edit(2):** ……………………still ain't in bed. And it's 2.28 AM.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_Draft: 09.18.07  
First Revision: 09.18.07  
Crack-otated: 09.20.07  
_


	35. Halted Steps

**ANNOUNCEMENT**  
As of 12th December 2007, _**One Step**_ is officially on **indefinite hiatus**.

* * *

Dearly (hated) beloved readers, 

….okay. As a faithful reader myself, I recognize the fact that this letter will send you into an unavoidable rage. We can only hope to placate you with another offer we will explain later on in this short notice, if you would stay long enough to read through.

We are quite regretful to inform you that as of current, both of us writers **Kia** and**Tria** have lost the interest and the appropriate drive we need to continue writing the story. Trust us when we say we didn't plan putting the story on hiatus like this; in fact, for Kia-chan, this will be the first time she has ever stopped a story—temporarily or not—out of writer's block and pure disinterest.

We both don't want to drop the story just like this, not after having pushed so much effort into it for the last year (and a month). However, our muses are yelling otherwise.

Right now, both of us are poring over tons of other bunnies (plotbunnies), all of which were conceived during the course of One Step's writing process. One Step, unfortunately, took too long that we slowly lost the passion for it.

We realize that a great number of you will be quite angry, disappointed, and/or dissatisfied with this new development; we cannot blame you. We would be too if we were in your position.

So go ahead and send the "I HATE YOU!" and "HOW COULD YOU?!" letters; we'll accept them with open arms. That will be our punishment for skiving off like this.

However!

On a brighter note, we do have compensation coming up for you.

**1) **For those who already read _**Persuasion**_, skip this. For those who haven't yet, go to my LiveJournal (links in my profile) and read it. It's a Yukimura/Ryoma + Tezuka + Atobe story that has mostly comedy, a touch of drama, and angst in it. It's a four-part thingy—_definitely_ tiny compared to One Step—but I guarantee it's worth a read. (_Dedicated to Tria, Naadhi, and Tola; my three faithful musketeers. XD)_

**2) **We will soon be launching a Tezuka/Ryoma story (of course Pillar Pair rules) that was, as of a minute ago, yet untitled. But Tria has decided that the tentative title is **Concerto**. It is a newly birthed bunny, and Tria is working it out right now as I type this letter up. It will be patterned over the anime, but only the sheer concepts. Because, people, this is an AU. As in a totally fresh story; a complete alternate universe. (Yes, that means no tennis, but there'll be a substitute.) So look out for it. Release this winter.

**3) **Another story (not AU this time) is also a Tezuka/Ryoma story that slightly has Fuji in it will be launched within January to February. Kia-chan still needs some anchor to pull the angst from, because this will be a romance-drama type of thing, and it needs some heavy emotion behind it. The title is **For Clarity**, and some of you might have already heard of it. It will be a shorter, ten-chaptered fic. Not for the lighthearted.

**4) ****Negaigoto** is another story that has been under the wraps for quite some time now. I haven't had the time to write it out yet, but it's underway. This is my first Keigo/Ryoma with a touch of Tezuka, but considering the feedback I got from One Step, I don't think I'll do too bad. This one is also an AU. And I think those who are fans of a good comedy-romance thing will find this good.

So that's already quite a lot!

For those who want to find out about my non-Prince of Tennis projects/upcoming stories, go up to my profile. I have a lot under the wraps; it's just chemistry forbidding me. Gomen.

So, with that, we bid you a happy holidays (knowing that this just made it all the happier).

Hugs and kisses (and stabs and slashes),  
**Kia & Tria**(Teh Twinnesses)  
_12.12.07_

* * *

_____**One Step**__ and all original characters are owned by Kiasidira Ixari and Aventria. All recognizable characters and plot devices from Prince of Tennis remain disclaimed._


	36. A Step for Compensation

**ANNOUNCEMENT**

**Concerto**'s first chapter is up, but it is not posted on THIS account of mine. Instead, it is posted on our collaboration account **Teh Twinnesses Presents**. There is a link on my profile if you are too lazy to search it. Or you can just search the story name. Please put the new story on alert if you want to be notified, or put the collaboration account on Author Alert so you can be alerted for any new development.

Also, I wanted to ask you all if you wanted me to post the **unfinished 33rd chapter of One Step**. I think it would make you all feel better if I did that. XDXD Correct my if I am wrong.

(This notice will be replaced by the 33rd chapter if you want me to post it up.)

**Kia & Tria **(Teh Twinnesses)  
_12.14.07_

* * *

_____**One Step**__ and all original characters are owned by Kiasidira Ixari and Aventria. All recognizable characters and plot devices from Prince of Tennis remain disclaimed._


	37. Step Thirty Three: Crescendo

**One Step**  
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari  
Co-written by: Aventria

There was another note on this chapter that was written when I started writing it—approximately a month and a half ago. Again, I am apologizing for the hiatus. As promised, here is chapter 33, unfinished.

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applies.

**Warning(s):** …none? (snicker) Though by now, I think you'd know better than to listen to my phony warnings.

**NOTE:**I will continue referring to Fuji as "Fuji" in narrative instead of "Yusuke". Just to maintain a solid flow and to avoid confusing readers. For now, that is. (grin)

* * *

**Step Thirty-Three: Crescendo**  
_(Unrevised and Unfinished Edition)_

* * *

"Are you sure you're gonna be fine?"

Toushi looked up at Kevin and smiled weakly. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I just… need some time alone."

Kevin nodded in understanding, gently letting go of Toushi's hand and leaning forward to give him a chaste kiss. After a comforting squeeze on his boyfriend's shoulder, he walked out of their room and closed the door behind him. He let a silent but heavy breath go, head dipped low. The entire manor's mood was morose, as if someone had died. Of course, everyone already knew that Ryoma was fine. Fuji had been in a hurry to return to the hospital despite the private conversation they'd had earlier.

He understood the gravity of the situation Fuji and Toushi and Keigo were all in, but for goodness' sake, couldn't have they postponed this problem after Ryoma's hospitalization? He knew that this only doubled the pressure over Fuji; he didn't know about the others, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to see Fuji snap. Sighing deeply, he moved down the empty hallways. The other players were practicing outside; Team Japan's first match was approaching. He shook his head; Keigo really did choose a bad timing.

He stopped by the snack bar and picked up a drink, and then stepped out into the cooling summer afternoon. A whole day had passed after the ordeal; the discussion this morning had taken an entire morning before Fuji and Toushi settled down enough to function properly once more. Kevin realized that it was a dire mistake to leave Tezuka behind at the hospital; Fuji had desperately needed an anchor to hold him down as he tried to deal with the shattering of his world's foundations.

Robert and Ryuuka had explained everything. Fuji had a hard time believing and digesting everything that was being said, but he accepted it as gracefully as he could. Later on in the day, when all the questions seemed to have been answered, he excused himself and went straight to the hospital after picking up some clothes for him and Tezuka. It was as if he hadn't been disturbed by the news of his heritage at all when he finally set off towards the hospital to see Ryoma again.

Kevin shook his head ruefully as he settled down on one of the benches settled in a near clearing within the woods surrounding the manors. The clearing was on top of a cliff and overlooked a wonderful view of the bay and the sea. There was no other noise other than the distant squawking of the seagulls and the rustling of the trees. The waves lapped gently against the cliff, creating a comforting white noise.

This was his favorite spot within the entire mansion; this was his sacred ground, a place to think and settle down.

He had quite a lot to think about and consider: Toushi's situation, Ryoma's poisoning, the issue with Fuji, Keigo's tactlessness... and the list went on. His frown deepened as he remembered the earlier discussion with the other players and the maids of the manor.

They had to thank the other captains for taking over the manor and scouring the security videos for any sign of abnormal activity within the last two days. They'd watched every single recorded security video on the manor, and soon enough they stumbled on something that seemed suspicious.

One of the newer maids—a young woman with blue-streaked black hair, bright brown eyes, and a small tattoo of a heart on her wrist—had served Ryoma's Ponta in a glass instead of in the can, as per Ryoma's usual instructions. They didn't see anything unusual with how she prepared the drink, but they still had a standing suspicion. It was better not to leave trails uninvestigated, as Inui had so aptly phrased.

His mind was floating off towards the direction of settling his worry for his boyfriend when he heard nondescript voices nearby. He frowned. He was pretty sure that no one was within sight when he'd walked down the worn yet well-hidden cobbled path leading towards the clearing. The woods were pretty spacey; he would have seen it if someone was around.

He grumbled and stood, straining his ears for further noises. He walked as slowly and as noiselessly as possible towards the edge of the clearing where the voices were coming from. He knew the woods beyond the clearing towards that particular direction continued on for about two to three miles until it broke to make way for the main road leading towards the manor properties and other private lands beyond the manor. This was a secluded area of Miami, after all.

_They seem to be arguing about something…_

Kevin inched ever nearer, careful to hide his silhouette against the trees. Finding one tree that was thick enough to hide his frame successfully, he snuck up and pressed himself against it. He strained his ears and kept his breathing down, feeling kind of silly as he acted like how someone would act in a spy movie.

"…_**are you doing here in the first place**_?!" a man's voice exclaimed in a hushed whisper. The rustling leaves made it hard for Kevin to recognize the voice, but he knew it somehow sounded very familiar.

"_**It's none of your fucking business**_!!" a higher, lighter voice yelped without trying to hide her voice. There was the sound of furious rustling; Kevin knew that there was a struggle. "_**Let me go**_!!"

"_**Are you acting under his orders?! Goddammit, keep your voice down, bitch**_!" grunted the man as the girl yelped louder. Soon enough, the sounds of struggling stopped. The girl had to have been subdued by the man. "_**Did he tell you to do this**_?!_**Answer me**_!!"

"_**Yes, he did, dammit, now let me go**_!!" the girl struggled, her voice tight as if she was being restrained around the torso. "_**You're hurting me, Ryoga**_!!"

Kevin had to conceal the rattling gasp he drew. Eyes wide in shock, he stood rooted to his place.

"_**Goddammit, I already told him not to mess with my brother**_!!" This time, it was Ryoga who growled without discretion. It was as if he didn't care if anybody heard anymore. "_**Carol. I want you to get out of Miami. Get out of Miami and go back to your dad in Dakota. Don't you **_**dare**_** come back here, you hear me? I don't want to see you joining them**_!"

"_**I won't leave**_," Carol growled aggressively. There was another rustle, and then panting. "_**You can't tell me to leave. You're not my guardian anymore. You're not one of US anymore. You chose your pathetic little **_**brother**_** who's probably dead by now; like how you'll be when he's finished with you.**_"

"_**Carol, please**_," Ryoga silently spoke. "_**I don't want you to become just another whore for them**_!"

"_**Well it's better than going back to fucking North Dakota and raising chickens and taking care of old crones!**_" shrieked the girl. "_**I won't go back there anymore! This is better; **_**here**_** is better! Here I have a real family—a family that doesn't include **_**you**_** any longer!**_"

There was silence, in which Kevin braved peeking around the tree. His eyes widened as he saw the familiar form of the black-haired and brown-eyed girl on the video as the maid who served Ryoma the tall glass of Ponta. She was facing towards Kevin's general direction, but not directly. Ryoga had his back against Kevin, which was probably good. He didn't want the elder Echizen to see him at all.

"_**I was never included in the family you're talking about, Carol**__,"_Ryoga flatly said. "_**There was never any family over there for me, because my family was here. Here all the time, while I was being a stupid selfish brat slaving away to what I wanted and not paying any attention to what I already had.**_"

There was another stretch of longer silence as Carol and Ryoga just stared at each other, one warily, and one pleadingly. Then the girl's face hardened.

"_**I'm going back to them**_," she said darkly. "_**I'm going back to the cartel, and you can't stop me.**_"

"_**Carol—**_"

The girl ran off into the woods, while Ryoga darted after her half-heartedly. He yelled her name, but she didn't come back.

However, she did look back.

Once.

And her eyes widened with Kevin's.

* * *

Brushing back the dark hair from the elegantly sloping eyebrows, Tezuka ran his eyes over Ryoma's sleeping face. He wouldn't dare show such openness with Ryoma in front of other people (unless under special circumstances, of course), but right now, there were only the two of them; no one else.

He leaned down and pressed a dear kiss on the sleeping teen's forehead. Reaching up and placing his hand against the motionless cheek, he was glad to find that at least, the color was back in Ryoma's skin. Seeing the ghastly pale white skin of his lover's face not a mere few hours ago was not really one thing he wanted to experience again. It was traumatizing enough the first time, and heavens be damned—he was _not_ going to let it happen ever again.

He turned gently to look at the door behind him when he heard it creak open slowly. Fuji entered the room silently and sent him a smile. "I'm sorry I took long," Fuji silently said, as if afraid to wake Ryoma. His smile faltered as he said, "Atobe and the others kept me busy."

"It's okay," Tezuka replied gently as Fuji approached. He didn't breach the subject; he could feel that Fuji was not ready to tell him yet, and it would probably be better if Fuji told him and Ryoma at the same time so as not to leave their younger lover always the last in the loop. "Are you feeling okay?"

Fuji nodded absently, leaning over Ryoma and placing a soft loving kiss on the boy's forehead. "I'm fine. Did he wake up?"

"No," Tezuka replied silently. "No, he didn't wake up. Not yet."

"He will wake up, though, right?" Fuji muttered, resting his chin against Ryoma's palm as he sat down. His eyes slowly started drooping. "He will wake up."

Brilliant blue eyes slid close. Tezuka could see that Fuji was more than tired; there were bags under his eyes, and he looked so stressed out that it was hard to believe he could actually stand and make a coherent conversation.

It was minutes of silence later when Tezuka spoke once more, his eyes trained on Ryoma's peaceful face.

"Yes, he will."

* * *

"No, he won't!"

Kevin slammed the door into an annoyed Atobe Keigo's face.

"Kevin!" roared the heir from the other side of the door. There was a loud slam, and the door flew open once more. (Kevin forgot to lock it, funnily enough.) "How many times do I have to tell you that he's_needed_ over there?!"

"Don't you know the meaning of a '_break_', you monkey?!" Kevin screamed right back into the diva's face. He waved his arms around himself madly as he started ranting once more. "You'll more than likely do nothing else but wear him out with your questions! He hasn't even fully recovered yet! He hasn't had decent sleep yet! Whose fault is that, huh?!"

"Stop channeling Keigo and being such a drama queen, Kevin," drawled Yuushi from behind Keigo. His glasses flashed against the sunlight streaming in from the windows. "Toushi is grown up; he will be just fine. There are only a few things we need to work out. And don't exaggerate, for goodness' sake. It's been two days! I'm sure Toushi's gotten more than enough sleep. And considering their circumstances, Fuji has more reason to be worn out than Toushi does, but Fuji's already agreed to go with us, so I don't see why Toushi can't. Besides, I don't hear Toushi saying no."

"He's right, Kev, I can handle it," Toushi carefully reassured Kevin from the bed. For some reason, the blonde was inexplicably worked up about Toushi going to a meeting with some lawyers about a lawsuit they were planning to file against Richard Lent. Of course, virtually nobody knew about it just yet. Even the other players inside the manor knew nothing about what was brewing under the straps.

They still had to prove Fuji _is_ Yusuke through extensive DNA testing, after all. The same was set for Toushi.

"But—but—"

"Kevin," sighed Toushi heavily. "I'm not going to Iraq, or anything! It's not like I'm going to drop dead the moment I get out of your sight. And I promise I'll try and be back as early as I can, okay?" For some reason, the blonde had been unsettled for the past two days. It wasn't the normal strange behavior Kevin periodically went through every month; it was something different. The unsettlement this time around was heavy; it was _real_.

Kevin bit his lip.

"I don't understand why you're worried, Kevin," Keigo flatly stated. "Ryoma's very stable and his condition is looking up. He'll be able to play tennis again, and that's something to celebrate for. The matter about Yusuke—_Fuji_—is cleared up now. Just a few more steps and we're done. Training for the competition is proceeding smoothly; Team France won't stand a chance, especially against a _very_ angry Fuji. Team USA's first game will be so easy; all you have to do is beat Team Brazil. Things are on the _positive_ side; what are you so worried about? Is there something you're not telling us?"

The blonde merely averted his eyes to the ground.

Keigo sighed. "Fine, be that way," he sniffed. "I'll have Ryoma wring whatever it is out of you the moment he wakes up."

With that, Keigo turned his back on the blonde and walked out of the room with his nose held high. Yuushi sighed and shook his head in exasperation. He motioned for Toushi, who nodded, and gave Kevin one last affectionate hug. "I'll be back soon," he muttered, walking after Yuushi and closing the door behind him.

Kevin stood motionless for a whole minute.

"Argh!" he growled, flopping back onto the bed and throwing his arms over his eyes. His hands involuntarily clenched and unclenched themselves. It was a bad little habit he'd developed within the last two days filled with nothing but pure worry.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see those brown eyes widening with his. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see the girl's fleeing form, melding into the darkness the shades provided. He could hear Ryoga's voice calling after her. After Carol.

_Carol._

Kevin groaned.

_She saw me. She saw me when she ran off._

This was really bad. He remembered her mentioning something about cartels; cartels were _bad._ Any underground organization was _very bad._ He knew enough not to mess with them (hell, he didn't grow up in downtown New York for nothing), but this time, he might not even be given a choice.

_She saw me, and she's going to remember my face. And I am going to be in _very_ big trouble._

Thankfully, Ryoga _hadn't_ seen him. He immediately ran back towards the manor, careful to keep quiet and hide his form within the trees. Ryoga hadn't seen him; he was too busy chasing after Carol (whoever she was). If Ryoga _had_ seen him, then he would be in a real pinch. He would be pressured, torn between two sides.

Not that he wasn't already.

He hadn't told anyone of what he saw; he hadn't gotten an opportunity to. Yuushi and Keigo were always busy, what with the lawsuit and the competition coming up. The other players were caught up with the stir about Ryoma and the upcoming matches against Team France. Toushi—he couldn't bring himself to tell Toushi. He knew that people knew about his connection to the fair-haired teen, and that only served to put the both of them in even deeper trouble. He was just thankful that Ryoma was safely under Keigo's supervision and Tezuka's watchful eyes right now. That was one less person to worry about.

He sighed again, eyes wandering towards the open balcony windows.

He couldn't even push himself to go outside of the manor; pathetic. He was relying on the heavy security to keep himself safe. Had he forgotten New York? He couldn't have. New York, his hometown, was a city of peril. Drugs, mafia, gang wars, prostitution, serial killers, insane people with nothing to do—he'd managed to survive that.

Why was he so afraid of one girl and her memory?

_Why?_

He tossed and turned in unrest. He was in trouble, big trouble. He didn't know what to do. He was at a loss. Ryoga was involved—somehow—with Ryoma's poisoning. But what should he do about it? He knew that Ryoma wouldn't be able to handle double betrayal from the same person.

He kept agonizing, until his cell phone rang.

He jerked in surprise, scrambling towards the bedside table to pick it up. It was vibrating, generating an annoying buzzing noise as it hummed against the table. Grabbing it and flipping it open, he held it to his ear.

"Hello?" he grunted.

"…Kevin Smith?"

"Yes?"

There was silence.

And the line went dead.

He cursed. "What the fuck?" he frowned at the phone.

And then his eyes caught the screensaver picture on the phone's screen.

…_could it be that I'm not afraid for myself?_

He ran a thumb over a digital image of himself and Ryoma, grinning and laughing. It was fresh in his memory, just like yesterday.

_Could it be that I'm afraid for Ryoma? That I'm afraid to accept the fact that _he_ is the one in real danger? I don't understand—why would the cartel—Ryoma's got no connections to the cartel! Except maybe for Ryoga, but then, that's…_

* * *

There was a big brown album his father always carried around wherever he went. He could remember his earliest memories of it; he had tried gnawing on one of the pictures he'd ripped from the rough handmade paper that served as the album's pages. He could remember flashes of old images, faded but authentic. There was a woman, pregnant. There was a man, and there was a child.

It was a family.

Toushi always knew it was their family.

"I wonder what she was like," muttered Fuji to himself, looking over Toushi's shoulder as the younger teen flipped through the worn pages slowly.

Toushi was silent. Among all of it, he had the most difficulty registering the fact that he now had an older half-brother—and that half-brother of his was none other than Fuji.

"She was the most beautiful woman on earth," Toushi quipped, the gentle breeze stirring his naturally pale hair; one of the features he had inherited from Sayo. Then Toushi grinned. "Or so my love-struck idiot of a father says."

Fuji chuckled blandly. "Better to have a love-struck and idiotic father than to have none, you know," he quipped, patting Toushi's head in an incredibly brotherly way; it was as if they had not been separated from each other for fifteen years at all. Or maybe it was just the fact that Fuji was more than used to having a little brother—he'd had Yuuta all his life after all.

"It's amazing how much you really look like a Fuji, though," remarked Toushi silently.

"Well, the brown hair pretty much pins the look down," Fuji shrugged casually, picking up a random album on the table. They'd been left to themselves in order to 'get to know each other' better—Ryuuka and the Atobes more than gladly provided them photos and videos of their deceased mother to sift through and occupy themselves with for the rest of the afternoon. "I guess it's just a huge coincidence that I look so much like Yumiko-nee-san. Ah. She must have known too—the fact that I was adopted. She would have already been old enough to understand."

Toushi glanced up at his 'new' older brother. "You don't look surprised."

Fuji smiled. "When you grow up with someone like Yumiko-nee-san, nothing surprises you anymore." Pausing for a moment, he contemplated in silence. Then he continued, "Can you believe she actually shoved_doujinshi_ up my nose when I was eight years old? And the shounen-ai kind too."

A trickle of sweat crawled down the side of Toushi's forehead.

"I guess I inherited most of my habits and traits from her. Maybe that's why people peg me feminine all the time."

"No, you really just look like a girl," Toushi interrupted blandly.

"Is that so?" Fuji hummed thoughtfully, turning to look at himself at an ornate framed mirror on the wall. He turned his head side to side. "Hmm… maybe I do."

A companionable stretch of silence blanketed over them as Fuji picked up one of Sayo's photos and held it up against the mirror, as if comparing his face to his own mother's. Toushi was busy sifting through old photos, some monochrome, like an eight year old inside a toy store.

Fuji noticed this, and curiously asked, "You've never seen these photos before?"

Toushi looked up. "Oh, no, I haven't. Dad kept them somewhere. I mean, he let me see some of Sayo's other pictures, but… not these ones," he remarked, tapping his finger against a particular one that caught his interest. It was a snap of a windswept Sayo holding her hair against the wind with a wide charming smile, frozen in mid-step and head turned back towards the camera. The seaside background was particularly breathtaking—a perfect dusk shot of flaming oranges and pastel yellows. "I guess these photos were just too special for him."

"Hmm," nodded Fuji. "Then again, some of these photos _would_ make you want to ask some awkward questions." He gestured to a small photo of their mother—who was then still pregnant with Toushi—and a young Yusuke with a harassed little kitty.

"Yeah," mumbled Toushi, eyes glazing over. "Do you remember her?"

Fuji was silent for a moment.

"Bits and pieces of far-away memories," he longingly voiced. "Snippets. Hazy ones. Her voice, I remember. How warm she was. Her face, though—it's kind of fuzzy. Uncle Robert says I was just far too young to remember back then."

Another stretch of silence enveloped them, disturbed only by Toushi's idle flipping through the huge tomes teeming with frozen snippets of time. This was the closest they could get to their mother's memory; they both shared the feeling of wanting to cherish it as much as they could.

"Hey, Fuji?" started Toushi, fiddling slightly with the edge of the photo paper he was holding.

Fuji smiled. "You can call me by my name. Or if you prefer _aniki_, that's fine too."

"A-Aniki, then," the white-haired boy muttered awkwardly, as if testing the foreign endearment on his tongue. "I wanted to know… what you're going to do about… about Richard."

Fuji's eyes darkened a fraction. "Ah." He gently closed the album he was flipping through and placed it upon the table. The hostility was not lost on Toushi. Both of them harbored anger at the man for Sayo's mistreatment.

"Before I can do anything about him, I first need to establish myself as a legal heir of his shares under the Atobe Group of Companies—DNA tests, background checks, confirmation with the Fuji family—all of it will be a lot of work," Fuji started. "Atobe has already agreed to help me on it. Miyagi-san said he would try his best to keep it under wraps to prevent anybody from interfering in the process."

"And afterwards?" Toushi prompted.

"Afterwards, I reclaim everything." A hint of steel flashed in Fuji's eyes. "Everything that should have been ours. Stocks and shares, properties, assets, real estate—if I have to fight tooth and nail to reclaim, I will. I'll reclaim everything that's ours by right."

Toushi cast his eyes down, eyes not really seeing the photo he was supposed to be looking at. "It's yours, not mine. At least not legally. I was born out of wedlock—inheritance will not be granted to me."

"Says who?" Fuji sniffed indignantly. "Once I reclaim everything, I will set a partition for you and Ryuuka-san. We will share everything. I will make sure you are well taken care of. As your older brother, it's my duty. Surely Mother would have wanted me to do so."

Toushi smiled slightly. "I guess."

Reaching over, Fuji ruffled Toushi's hair, earning a sharp glare. "Besides, don't you think it would be fun to make an institute for photography?"

Toushi's eyes lit up. "An institute?!"

"I've been thinking of it for some time now," smiled Fuji. He sighed. "But all that will come after I finish the boring stuff. Oh, and I have to change my last name too."

"Your last name—'Fuji'? What will you change it to?"

"…I was thinking of adapting Mother's name," Fuji contemplated aloud. "_Shimizu Syuusuke._"

"Sounds good," shrugged Toushi. "You're not going to use 'Yusuke'?"

"Nah. I'm fine with my current name."

"Oh. Okay," shrugged Toushi.

Fuji reached over to the next photo album and flipped through casually. His eye caught a certain picture. "Ooooh. An excellent shot."

"Hm? Where?" the other boy nagged, scooting closer. "Which—" He twitched. "—one…"

Fuji snickered. "Oh how nice! My little brother's all grown up! I didn't even get to watch and see!" he cooed in amusement as Toushi flushed beet red and fumed at the only photo on the bare white page of the newest album on the stack.

It was a picture of him and Kevin kissing under moonlight in the middle of a hedgerow maze.

"RYUUKA!"

* * *

_Whoever had said that Ryoma's social circle was as minute as a ring that would fit onto his pinky finger was a big fat liar. If anything, Ryoma knew that he_ knew_ people. He had a mountain of "friends" categorized into numerous separate groups: friends-for-the-heck-of-it (Horio), friends-for-show (Keigo), friends-because-they-are-beneficial (the owner of the Japanese Ponta manufacturing factories), friends-because-they-are-worthy-opponents (Yukimura and Sanada), friends-because-I-want-to-be-friends-with-them (his teammates and Kevin), friends-because-they-keep-me-company-and-spoil-me-to-bits (Kevin and Karupin and Keigo) – and the list went on._

_However, out of the long list of acquaintances and "friends" he had, Tezuka was very unique._

_Of course, there was the fact that they were _more_ than friends, but that was not the point._

_Tezuka was unique for some other reason than just being his boyfriend._

_And right that moment, Ryoma was being reminded of it._

"_It's raining." _

"_Hn."_

_Ryoma stared. The only noise within the room was the faint rustle of pages as Tezuka turned page by page, and the silent pitter-patter of raindrops against the windowpanes. They were sitting inside one of the Manor's smaller lounge rooms, with a small round table separating the two of them. There were two mugs of warm chocolate that used to be steaming hot. Tezuka was seated by a bookshelf, reading a lengthy novel about a young man's trials and tribulations. Ryoma, on the other hand, was seated by the window, watching Tezuka attentively._

_And quite impatiently._

"_Your chocolate's getting cold."_

"_Hn."_

_The elder of the two remained still and motionless—the only detectable motion was of his eyes sliding back and forth through the pages and across the words of the book he was reading. The two of them had been sitting idle for more or less two hours now, and Ryoma's legs, which were folded under him as he sat on the squishy brown couch, were starting to feel dead._

_But despite his chagrin, Ryoma did not relent. Golden eyes bore through the back of the book the captain was reading, as if compelling the book itself to dissipate in a flash of fire and ashes. _

"_Mreow."_

_Karupin slithered in front of Ryoma and sat expectantly in front of the couch, turning imploring eyes upon his master. Ryoma, complying, picked the cat up and placed it on his lap. A soft crooning noise was heard as Ryoma's hands instinctively slid into the well-kempt fur._

_For how long Tezuka intended to sit motionless, Ryoma did not know. He was getting annoyed. Frustrated. No matter how long he sat and waited for the captain to stop reading and entertain him, nothing happened. It was as if Tezuka did not even realize that there were two people inside the room. Ryoma wondered if this was what Fuji had been talking about—the mesmerizing experience of being sucked into the whirlpool of words that would make the reader forget about everything else in existence._

_Or maybe Fuji was just being the drama queen he normally was._

_In any case, Ryoma was miffed._

_He didn't take well to being ignored; he was used to being lavished with excess attention and affection—partially from Keigo and Kevin, and partially from his doting parents (though he was damned sure that even though the entire attitude was an Echizen spawn trademark, it was Keigo who had fueled it all to impossible proportions that even his own father could not keep up)._

_This was neither the treatment he wanted nor expected from people around him—he was used to being the center of distraction _and_ attraction, and as selfish as that may seem, that was what he embodied. That was who he was._

"_The rain's stopped."_

_Ryoma expectantly looked up to his captain for any sign of—_

"_Hn."_

—_his eyebrow ticked._

_That had been a solid twenty minutes of nothing but silence disrupted by rain and soft purrs. A total waste of time—time that could have been spent through far more beneficial methods, both on the court and in bed (but in his mind, court and bed were synonymous anyways). _

_Idly lifting his mug to his lips and sipping on the warm chocolate he had made earlier for the two of them, he contemplated on the pros and cons of bodily chucking Karupin at his captain. _

_Yes, he was just that much annoyed._

_He was annoyed enough to actually consider using his one and only beloved cat as a weapon of mass destruction._

_Because he _did not like being ignored.

_For all he knew, Tezuka could be inwardly laughing at him right that very moment. He would not deny that it was a fact that Tezuka had a sadistic streak as well. Fuji was highly contagious after all, and it would be no wonder if Tezuka picked something up, especially after such extremely high exposure to the blue-eyed sadist._

_He grumbled to himself, racking his brains for some trick that would successfully divert Tezuka's attention away from the thrice damned book he was reading. He eyed the room for anything that would come in handy, but found nothing that could be put to good use. He sighed and pulled a random book from a nearby shelf—he did not even bother looking at the spine to read the title._

_If he couldn't distract Tezuka, then maybe he could distract himself instead._

Wait.

_A small smirk spread over his features._

There's one tactic I haven't tried yet.

_He gently closed the book he was holding and replaced it on the shelf nearby and stood from the plush seat. Tezuka's eyes didn't even flit away from his book. Ryoma sniffed inwardly. He gently swayed over to Tezuka, a hand reaching out for the thick tome within the captain's hands._

_As soon as his finger nudged the book, Tezuka's eyes paused._

_Ryoma smiled._

_A second and a third finger wrapped themselves over the book's top and gently tugged it out of the captain's resisting grasp._

"_Ryoma?"_

Finally, you pay attention.

"_What are you doing?" Tezuka voiced._

But I'm not done yet, buchou.

_Ryoma gently placed a bookmark between the book's pages and closed it._

"_Ryoma, I was reading." _

_He then slid onto Tezuka's lap and promptly shut his captain up by covering those lips with his own._

_He inwardly smirked._

And this is why you're unique, buchou; you have the uncannily annoying ability to ignore me.

_He rolled his hips in that sensual manner he knew the elder player just so loved, and was pleased to receive a whole-hearted groan of pleasure in return._

But I'm Echizen Ryoma, and I hate being ignored.

_A hand very slowly slid up his thigh; a moan echoed through the room as fingers hooked into his briefs. _

And I will do anything to avoid being ignored.

* * *

**Tsuzuku**  
_(Unrevised and Unfinished Edition)_

* * *

That is as far as the unfinished chapter goes. **If you find any imperfection within it, then pardon; as I have said, this is both UNREVISED and UNFINISHED.** Naturally, there would be slight spelling and grammatical errors.

I might rekindle the fire to write this story, so please do not lose hope. In the meantime, please do check out **Concerto** on our collaboration account, _Teh Twinnesses Presents_. I promise it will be worth your while.

**Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria**  
_Unfinished Draft: 12.17.07_


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